


The Blade Itself

by Forever_Seeking



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, F/M, Grey Protagonist, Marauders, Mystery, Sirius has a twin, Slightly Manipulative Dumbledore, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_Seeking/pseuds/Forever_Seeking
Summary: Everything has a price... Her mother had told her that once, when she was young and had asked why her eyes were different to Sirius'. And now, Lyra had chosen peace over death, and she would never be whole again.... Everyone who was anyone had heard the rumours surrounding the Black twins. But were they true? One thing was for damn sure, Lyra Black would die before ever confirming them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story is also posted on FanFiction.net
> 
> UPDATED!! I've recently figured out how to keep my original formatting when copying and pasting content onto this site, yay!
> 
> At the start of each chapter (or most of them) there will be a section in italics, this will be a flashFORWARD to later chapters. Not all chapters will have dates attached as the first one does, that's more to set the initial scene for the story.
> 
> I've been working on this piece for a while, and it was originally posted as a one shot, which is why it's taken me a bit to sort it out. I'm not guaranteeing regular updates, but I will try my best. This first chapter is quite a long one, but hopefully it'll keep you interested.
> 
> Please review as it really motivates me to keep going!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

## Chapter One

**27 th August 1981**

_‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed Lily, but Sirius and Lyra are closer than your average pair of twins. All twins share a bond, but you’re right . . . this war has always been more personal for them . . . The truth of it is, I don’t know what kind of bond they share, but it might just be deeper than any of us could ever imagine.’ Remus tried to bury the sinking, hollowing cavern burrowing through him. He tried, the problem was, he didn’t think he had anything to fill it with._

**1 st November 1981**

**_Sirius Black Incarcerated_ **

_1 st November 1981_

_By Anderson Cronkite_

_Mass-murderer Sirius Black will not face trial after being found at a crime scene where approximately fourteen people were murdered. Among the victims was Peter Pettigrew, one of Black’s former school mates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Whether this incident is tied to the events that occurred last month at Fawley Estate, leaving Fawley Manor devastated, to which Black was centrally involved, is yet to be determined._

_Black faces life imprisonment at Azkaban Wizarding Prison in response to this horrendous crime. Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror office are still investigating the events surrounding the crime and are not ruling out the possibility that this is linked to the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which occurred on the same night._

**_Black the Barbaric_ **

_1 st November 1981_

_By Ruvea Skeeta_

_On a night that should have been a celebrated one world-wide following the fall of You-Know-Who, it will now forever be marred by the mass-murder of thirteen muggles and one wizard. The culprit, one Sirius Black, was arrested immediately following the attack by the Auror team._

_Exact details are still yet to be determined, but having gained inside knowledge from a source within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement itself, it can now be said with some certainty that Sirius Black had been a member of You-Know-Who’s inner circle. This may not be all that surprising considering the family’s sordid history concerning the Dark Arts._

_Black’s rage may have been fuelled by the events that transpired just last month, or it may have been orchestrated by Black who we now know was conspiring with You-Know-Who. One thing is for certain, Sirius Black, considering all that he has done, and all the more that he might have been involved in doing, should never be allowed to see past the hood of a dementor again._

**December 1977**

Sirius couldn’t stand still, he rattled the door handle furiously. Dread, cold and heavy like wet cement, started to harden in his stomach. A fear had gripped him . . . a fear that had him panting, had him sweating, he could feel every bead of it slide down his face . . . it was fear at a level he’d never felt before. Sure there’d been a couple of times during the full moon when Moony had almost got away from them, but that had always had a rush of adrenaline, of fun, in it. There was nothing but horror now. If he stopped, even for a moment, he’d be stuck, helpless forever.

Sirius slammed his fists against the door, screwing his eyes shut tight as he tried to think of anything else instead of the horrendous pictures that kept flashing one after the other in his mind.

He hadn’t heard anything since he’d awoken, lying bruised and bloodied on his bedroom floor ten minutes earlier. The door across the hall being slammed shut was what had jolted him awake and pulling at the door handle in the first place. The affinity his parents had for using silencing charms on closed doors always made him frantic beyond comprehension. But this . . . this time it was different. Frantic didn’t do what he was feeling justice.

Sirius stood, legs shaking, head against his bedroom door, he tried to focus his thoughts, but his mind was blank . . . O _f course it is. What a perfect time for me to become a complete and utter idiot._

Suddenly his panting flickered. Of course! How could he have forgotten! Running over to his trunk he tossed aside old books and clothes he hadn’t bothered to give to Kreacher until he spotted a glint of silver. His heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time as he withdrew the small knife from the mess that was his trunk.

Running over to the door, he stuck the knife in the key hole and twisted until it clicked and       swung towards him. With his wand in one hand and the knife in the other, Sirius crossed the narrow, dark hallway, not bothering to look if anyone was lurking in the shadows. In some distant part of his mind he registered that a shouting match was being had from somewhere downstairs.

‘Lyra!’ He banged on the door as hard as he could . . . It didn’t move an inch. There was nothing but silence on the other side. Sirius shoved the knife into the door’s keyhole, rushing into the room as soon as it clicked open.

At first everything seemed to distort into one great blurred scene, like a painting of a gruesome scene that’s colours had started to bleed into one another: A girl lying on the brown floor, white skin, black hair and red . . . so much red everywhere . . . There was red pooling on the floor around her, staining her hands, soaking through the front of her shirt. But where there was a river of red, there was also far too much white when Sirius looked at her face.

Lyra’s face was white, sleeked with a film of sweat and unmoving, even when Sirius gripped her chin. ‘Lyra! Lyra, can you hear me?’ She didn’t even so much as flinch.

He looked around the room, Lyra’s bookshelf had great chunks of wood missing, books lay scattered and torn around the room. Some had drops of red on them, others were striped with it. Her eagle feathered quill and ink set had been knocked onto the bed, the dark ink streaking the white sheets like great tears. The night stand had fallen to the floor, the lamp that had been sitting on it now lay in pieces, glass like pebbles on the wood. It was a scene of complete destruction.

‘That’s it,’ Sirius said through a painfully clenched jaw, ‘we’re leaving.’ He flicked his wand and looked back to Lyra as everything that hadn’t been destroyed flew into her trunk. Sirius quickly scanned his sister. There were dark red and purple bruises around her neck, a long cut tore down the length of her left arm, the skin there shredded and ripped open, it was oozing blood slowly but steadily. Sirius stopped and outright balked when he reached her stomach, where the blood was heaviest. Grabbing a scarf off the bed, he tied it tightly around her middle.

With one last tug of the scarf he flicked his wand again and Lyra’s trunk flew towards him, shrinking as it flew across the room. He caught it, stuffed it in his pocket and lifted his sister as carefully as he could off the bloodied floor. Her head lolled against his chest.

He was halfway to his own door when a figure emerged from a doorway further down the hall.

‘Sirius! What’s going . . .’ Regulus stopped at the sight of his sister, of the blood covering her and now seeping into Sirius’ own shirt. His eyes widened, colour draining from his face. ‘What happened!?’

Sirius ignored him. He didn’t have time for anyone’s false concerns. He placed Lyra down on his bed as gently as he could before flicking his wand, this time _his_ belongings were flying around the room, placing themselves haphazardly into his trunk.

‘She’s hurt!’ Regulus had followed them into Sirius’ room and came to hover at Sirius’ bedside. He only looked around the room when one of Sirius’ books hit his leg on its way to the trunk. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like?’ Sirius growled as he went over to his desk, searching through it’s drawers. The only thing he could hear was his blood rushing through his veins.

His heart beat loudly in his ears. He could almost swear it’s rapid rhythm screamed _Not long. Not long. Not long_ . . . Not long now and they’d both be free. But first he had to find – ha! He grabbed the parchment from the desk’s middle drawer and stowed it deep into his back pocket – he’d be damned if he left without the thing he’d come home for in the first place.

Regulus’ ramblings had remained a constant splutter in the background.

‘But – But you can’t!’

The trunk in the corner clicked shut, shrank and flew into Sirius’ open hand. He hastily shoved it into his pocket besides Lyra’s. By the time he’d returned to the bed Regulus’ voice had grown firmer and louder.

‘Sirius, you can’t!’ Regulus went to stand in front of his brother but Sirius grabbed onto the younger boy’s shirt collar, pulling him in so that he could see the panic clearly in his eyes, their noses a hairsbreadth away from touching.

‘What can’t I do Regulus!?’ Sirius growled, angry red sparks spat from his wand’s tip. ‘Because what I _can’t_ do any longer is to stay in this – this _house_ and watch her get hurt anymore.’ He pushed his younger brother away so roughly that Regulus’ back hit the wall. Sirius turned and lifted his sister off the bed. ‘We’re leaving,’ he snarled as he passed a stunned looking Regulus.

The walk down to the ground floor was the longest journey of Sirius’ life. He tried to keep to the shadows as much as he could and paused every time he heard so much as what could have been a creak of a floor board.

The shouting match was still being fought. He could only distinguish phrases, most of them in his mother’s high-pitched shrill shrieking voice.

_‘Do you realise what you’ve done?!’_

_‘We weren’t meant to hurt her!’_

And to what would have been his surprise, had it not been for the shock he was immersed in, Sirius heard his father shout back.

_‘Not even that strong!’_

_‘She’s unnatural!’_

_‘This is all your doing!’_

Sirius started to breathe a little easier when he entered the entrance hallway and caught sight of the front door. The appearance of the thick wooden door was enough to drown out all other sights and sounds.

_Not long. Not long. Not long._

He was mere feet from the door – from freedom – when a flash of purple light soared past his head catching the lantern hanging on the wall beside the door. It exploded, spraying glass everywhere.

Sirius ducked as another stream of light narrowly missed him. He shut his eyes briefly as the sound of wood splintering detonated through the hall.

‘How dare you try to sneak out of this house!’ Walburga Black’s shrieked, slightly demonic as she hurled curse after curse at her son.

His back now to the door, Sirius had no choice but to avoid his mother’s onslaught. Both of his hands were busy keeping Lyra close to him – her impassive face impossibly coming paler –  his wand was stuffed in his back pocket. Sirius flinched as a picture frame hanging behind him blew up. A shard of glass caught his top lip and the taste of blood quickly followed.

‘How dare you try to smuggle _her_ out with you!’ Walburga’s advances were coming dangerously fast now. Sirius barely had time to react as he ducked, swerved and flinched away from the barrage of curses. ‘Orion, he’s taking her!’

Sirius felt his heart stumble when his back hit the door, the handle digging into his back. His mind whirled at what he was about to do, but with his mother’s infuriated cries in front of him, her curses flying around him and his freedom now firmly behind him, he had no other choice. Walburga was raising her wand, getting ready for another attack, when Sirius quickly turned around and fumbled with the door handle.

The air that hit his face almost made him let out a victory cry. He only caught a glimpse of the muggle world outside before he let out a strangled cry. His legs almost gave way as pain tore down the back of his right leg.

The last things he recognised before he was sucked into the tunnel of apparition was his mother’s voice, disinheriting her eldest children, the pain in his leg that had him close to tears and the small, fragile, white and red girl in his arms, who had the tears that had threatened to spill from before come streaming down his cheeks.

And then there was nothing . . . nothing but the sound of a family of birds in a nearby tree and children laughing out of sight down the street. As soon as his head stopped spinning enough that he could stand without swaying violently, he faced the modest two-storey house, the Christmas lights still lining the roof.

‘James . . . James . . . James!’ He screamed and screamed and screamed until the front door opened. James and Remus stood on the threshold.

They were by his side in a heartbeat, Remus taking Lyra as Sirius fell, the pain in his leg, the exhaustion over what had just happened, finally taking over. James grabbed Sirius by the arms before he had a chance to hit the cement. The Black twins were ushered inside and had barely made it two feet into the house before Mr and Mrs Potter were upon them.

Dorea and Charlus were quick to slip into their professional mannerisms. They’d deal with the horror they both felt later. They ushered the teenagers into the lounge room, Sirius, leaning heavily into James, flung himself into the first chair he stumbled upon. Dorea quickly set to work inspecting his leg which was now drenched in thick, dark blood.

Sirius fidgeted in the seat, trying to look at Lyra over Dorea’s shoulder. Remus had placed her on the lounge, Charlus hovering over her, removing the scarf from her middle and almost blanching when fresh blood spilled out over her already soaked shirt.

‘Hold still, dear,’ Dorea told Sirius firmly, holding Sirius to the chair with surprising strength.

Sirius would’ve sat still if Charlus hadn’t let out a strangled, frustrated, infuriated growl. ‘That insidious bastard!’

Sirius went to stand but yelped, his leg instantly collapsing under the pressure. Charlus had cut through her shirt and exposed Lyra’s stomach, it was riddled with long, thick, impossibly deep slashes. They ran hopelessly deep, the blood that slipped out from them was dark and Sirius couldn’t distinguish wound from skin.

‘What’s wrong?’ Dorea’s voice was no longer firm but urgent. Sirius tried to ignore the sliver of panic that made the question wobble ever so slightly.

‘He’s used Dark Magic on his own daughter!’

Sirius caught James’ eye. He had never seen his friend looking so scared, so unsure. He stood beside his kneeling mother, looking from her, to Sirius, to his father, and back again. Remus however was fixed on one thing and one thing only. His grip on Lyra’s hand visibly tightened as she suddenly stirred and started screaming in agony – a strangled cry that pierced Sirius like a twisting knife through the heart.

‘Dorea! I need your help!’ Charlus’ yelled over Lyra’s screaming. ‘He’s tricked it.’ He told his wife as she appeared by his side, leaving Sirius stranded in the armchair. ‘Every time I try to seal the wound it works itself deeper.’

It took hours . . . hours for Dorea and Charlus, two fully grown wizards – an ex-Auror and an ex- Healer – to stifle the bleeding coming from the wounds across Lyra’s stomach. It was a crude patch up job but the Dark Magic used by an even darker man was not easily undone.

 After every passing minute, Sirius felt the weight in his chest grow and grow and he was certain that if he just got to Lyra then it would go away. If he just got to his sister then this nightmare would be over, he’d wake up panting in his bed at the Potters, slick with sweat, a pounding headache the only reminder of this god-damned nightmare.

There were a number of things Sirius took careful note of in that unearthly long afternoon.

He noticed every beat of his heart – how each one was like a warning that the next one would never come.

He watched every breath his sister took, fearing the same warning was true for her. He flinched through every one of her long screams and heaved a long sigh after each one had ended.

He kept an eye on James who looked ready to faint at the sight of his bruised and bloodied and tortured friends, but whose eyes shone with undisguised admiration as he watched his parents work in complete harmony.

And Sirius watched on as Remus gripped Lyra’s hand, muttering for her to hold on, to hold on just a little longer. Remus never looked at anyone else throughout the whole ordeal.

Later, when the candles of the house had been dimmed and doused . . . when James and Remus had retreated to the formers room . . . when Mr and Mrs Potter spoke in hushed voices behind closed doors . . . when Lyra’s breathing had finally, finally returned to deep, even inhales and exhales as she rested in a single bed in one of the Potter’s guest bedrooms and when Sirius lay in the bed adjacent to hers – watching her chest rise and fall – he finally let out a long shuddering breath and allowed himself to be devoured by the silent black that he knew was only a brief respite from the harrowing future he and his sister were now destined to live.

But even he wasn’t safe in the darkness. And all too quickly, reality invaded.

_‘Enough with your excuses! Despite your most ardent beliefs, I am_ not _oblivious to everything that goes on within my own house!’_

_Sirius knew it was dangerous. There were a great many things he could do within this house that could put him in potential danger, but listening to his parents engage in what could only be described as an intense argument (his parents – along with all other polite pureblood families –_ never _argued, as Sirius had been reminded on multiple occasions throughout his childhood), was decidedly more reckless than usual, even for him._

_And he_ had _been intending on turning around and retreating to his room and finish packing. This was only supposed to be a short visit. Get in, get what he came for and leave. If it hadn’t been for the surprise dinner his parents had arranged then he would have left days ago like he’d planned with James._

_James was a good friend, his best friend – his brother – but he tended to worry to the point of recklessness. Chances were that he would have mounted a full-scale rescue mission if he hadn’t received Sirius’ letter telling him about the delay._

_That damned dinner._

_It had been days since it happened. He’d had days to think about it, to try and decipher it, to figure out exactly what had taken place over the last course of that meal. Days of endless thinking and he was still just as confused, just as angry as he had been when it had happened. Maybe his parents were now finally going to let it slip, they might finally be about to explain just what it was that Madam Rosier was talking about that night._

_‘Orion, I have no possible idea what runs through the minds of everyone who comes into this house.’ Walburga’s biting voice was rising with every word. ‘Our eldest son should be proof enough of that!’_

_Sirius gritted his teeth at this slight. There were more important things to focus on than the well-known hatred his parents had for him._

_‘It is not our eldest son that I was referring to . . . neither was Madam Rosier that night, if my translation of the situation is to be relied upon.’ Where Walburga’s voice rose, Orion’s voice was being drawn lower, like a bucket into the well of his formidable fury. ‘Why is it that I always get the impression that everyone knows much more about my own blood than I?’_

_Sirius heard Walburga scoff. ‘You’ve never taken an active interest in her before. Why now?’_

_Up till this moment Sirius had been merely curious, now his curiosity mixed with worry, water and oil starting to swirl in his chest._

_‘I am interested in what interests others. I am simply attempting to uncover what the Rosier’s find so interesting in something I have hitherto dismissed.’ There was a pregnant pause, Sirius wasn’t sure if anyone on the other side of the door was breathing – he wasn’t too sure_ he _was breathing. ‘What interests_ you _about her, Walburga?’_

_‘Other than the fact that she’s my daughter?’ Sirius was sure that Walburga had meant the question to be just as biting as her previous comments, but he could hear her waiver, even if it was the smallest possible amount. He tried not to scoff at the obviousness of the lie._

_‘You really think I am a simpleton, don’t you?’ Orion asked, his voice full of venom. ‘I have heard the rumours, ever since they were born I have heard them. I chose to ignore them thus far because I have reassured myself that my wife could never be that foolish. She knows better than that, I told myself when I caught them whispering. She would never associate with the people required to be able to carry out what they’ve said you did. You would not taint our bloodline, a bloodline that has remained pure and strong for so many centuries, on such an irrevocable level.’_

_Sirius heard the squeal of a chair leg being dragged across the wooden floor boards of his father’s study and it took all his strength not to jump at the sudden noise. He took a half step closer to the door so that his cheek was almost pressed flush against it._

_‘Perhaps I have been wrong.’ Orion’s voice was almost at a whisper now. ‘You’ve always been an ambitious woman, Walburga. At times so focussed are you on your goal that it flirts with the point of brutality. I have always admired this about you. But,’ a short yelp was suddenly stifled and Sirius’ hand instinctively flew to the door handle, ‘if I have discovered that you have used this ability to turn this family into a magnet for ridicule and scandal, if that girl should be anything other than a disappointment, just like her brother, then …’_

_‘Master Black should not be spying.’_

_Sirius whirled around so fast he was momentarily dizzy. Kreacher stood not two meters from him, his wide eyes glowering up at him._

_Sirius moved toward him, ‘Kreacher, wait . . .’_

_But he was too slow. Kreacher popped out of sight before Sirius had the chance to take another step and the next second his scratchy voice was coming from the other side of the study door._

_Sirius didn’t have time to turn and run back to his room before the door opened. Orion Black, in all his towering, twisted rage, glared daggers at his eldest son._  

Sirius jolted into awareness. The image of a clawing hand reaching for his throat burnt the insides of his eyelids. He jumped again when he realised that there was a figure kneeling at the side of his bed. Somehow, he knew who it was even in the dark and the moonlight.

‘Did you get it?’ James whispered.

Sirius blinked, his mind – still reeling from his memories – was slow to realise what James meant. When the confusion lifted though, Sirius pointed to a dark mass on the floor next to the bed. It was the clothes he’d been wearing this afternoon, clothes that were now torn and bloodied beyond recognition.

James scooped them up and handed them to Sirius. As carefully as he could – the muscles throughout his entire body seemed to be bathed in soreness and pain – Sirius found the back pocket of his jeans. He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He laid back into his pillows, clutching the parchment like it was his only tether on life.

‘Got it,’ he said before closing his eyes, letting the darkness pull him away again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who read the first chapter... Now on with the second.
> 
> Before each chapter, there will be a small chunk of text, separate to the chapter itself. These are flash forwards to a point in the story that will happen eventually.
> 
> Enjoy!

## Chapter Two

_He didn’t think they’d go so far. They told him they wouldn’t. That had been their deal . . . That in itself was a laugh. The fact that a deal was being offered in the first place should have been a warning. The fact that he’d agreed showed himself and everyone else just how weak, how desperate he’d been. They took advantage of him, just as he knew they would . . . He’d believed them. He’d let them destroy him._

* * *

 

**December 1977**

He should have seen it coming. He knew it was only a matter of time before _something_ happened. But this? Had he really readied himself for the possibility of so much pain?

As the rest of the house lay dark and quiet, Remus could only blink up at the roof. He’d uttered his last words of the day an eternity ago. He had said them to James, who, from the soft yet uneven breathing coming from the other side of the room, seemed to be just as awake as Remus was now.

Their last words to each other hadn’t been ones of well wishes, of wishing pleasant dreams. No, the days of such sentiments were well and truly behind them now.

James had gotten up from his bed and left the room some time ago. Remus assumed it was to go get a glass of water . . . maybe it was to just walk, to do something other than laying still, letting the memories of the day hang over him.

No matter how much Remus thought he’d prepared himself for all the realities of life, nothing could have prepared him for hearing the desperate, harrowing way in which Sirius had called for James that afternoon. And nothing, _nothing_ could have prepared him for the sight that met them at the end of those cries.

Blood, so much blood. Remus was used to blood, from him and occasionally from the other Marauders. But not this much, not the amount that had painted Sirius’ right leg that oozed in thick coats from the jagged gash that tore down its length. But even that amount was nothing compared to the amount coming from what Sirius held in his shaking arms.

Lyra.

Remus was sure that that was the only thing repeating itself over and over in his mind, like a mantra.

_Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

The next hours were a blur. A slow-motion tumult of painful cries, hurried voices, curses, shouts and tears.

There seemed to be some time missing. One second he had been taking Lyra from Sirius in the sunlight as the boy collapsed against James’ shoulder, the next thing he was carrying her again, this time guided by Mrs Potter as Remus brought Lyra to the guest bedroom.

She was too quiet, too still. Remus longed for her to say something, do anything. Because then he’d know she was alright, he’d know that he was worrying for no reason. ‘As per usual,’ she would say. But she just lay there, unmoving on the bed and he didn’t realise how long he’d been standing over her, watching her.

_Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

Mrs Potter had gently removed Lyra’s blood soaked clothes and exchanged them for clean, fresh pyjamas. She, with the help of Remus, had tucked Lyra into the bed, lifting the covers around the girl, placing her injured arms on top. As she passed, Dorea placed a consoling hand on Remus’ arm. Or it would have been if he’d noticed it.

 _Lyra, Lyra_.

‘For Merlin’s sake, Sirius!’

Sirius?

It was like being dowsed in a bucket of iced water, it ran through Remus’ skin and strangled his insides.

His feet rushed him thoughtlessly back into the Potter’s sitting room.

Sirius, pale and sweaty, sat in the armchair he had fallen into when he’d arrived, but it was clear that he no longer had any wishes to remain there.

James was holding onto Sirius, he pushed down on one shoulder whilst his father pushed down on the other. Remus could do nothing other than watch.

‘It’s okay, Sirius! Lyra’s okay!’ James said through clenched teeth, all his remaining energy going in to keeping Sirius sitting.

‘Like hell she is!’ Sirius’ voice was terrifying, it was hoarse and hollow but it came out in a fierce growl that did nothing to melt the ice pounding through Remus’ veins.

‘Hold him still, Charlus!’

Mrs Potter knelt on the floor by Sirius’ feet. She held her wand out steady, ducking and weaving, obviously trying to get to the gaping wound running the down Sirius’ leg. But Sirius was outright thrashing now.

Remus jumped when a flash of red light hit Sirius squarely in the chest and the boy slumped, unconscious, his head lolling to the side.

James gave Remus a terrified look, shiny with worry and fear, whilst Dorea huffed a thank you to her husband. Remus hadn’t even noticed that Charlus had moved away from Sirius in order to cast the stunning spell.

Dorea and Charlus then set about fixing Sirius’ wounds. The leg wound took top priority but there was plenty else to occupy them, the least of all was a nasty purple bruise on the side of his head.

James had let go of Sirius as soon as he saw the stunner coming. Looking dazed and unfocussed, James left the room in silence. Remus followed behind him into Charlus’ study.

Without talking, James found an old and battered looking tome on the bookshelf. He lowered it on its side gently. The book grew until it took up the entire corner of the shelf on which it sat, where the title used to be, a handle had grown. James took hold and lifted the spine of the book, revealing a secret compartment. He extracted a bottle of Firewhiskey from its depths and walked to his father’s desk, filling the tumblers Remus had found in the bottom shelf half way. Taking one for himself, James pushed the other one towards Remus before falling back into one of the high-backed chairs.

At some point in the afternoon the two boys were joined by James’ parents. They poured themselves each a glass before lowering themselves into the two remaining chairs around the table. Silence fell over the room like a thick fog.

‘Did either of you know?’

Mr Potter’s voice came to Remus as if he were underwater, it was muffled, sluggish.

Looking across to James, Remus wasn’t sure the bespectacled boy was capable of speaking, he wasn’t sure he was either. All the muscles within him seemed to have vanished. The mere thought of talking was exhausting.

‘Not this much,’ James croaked, swallowing thickly before taking another sip of his Firewhiskey.

Remus nodded in agreement. Between Sirius’ sarcasm and Lyra’s shrugs, it was true that none of them had realised that their home life had become this bad. He’d had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since Sirius suggested returning to his parent’s house for the holidays. But the twins had been determined.

They’d all talked about it at length – the twins with the other Marauders. Remus hadn’t liked it much, neither had James or Peter for that matter, but what could they do?

‘Just this one last time.’ That’s what Sirius had told them. Lyra had nodded along beside him, her lips pursed in determination – she wasn’t going to be talked out of this. Remus should have tried. He should have pulled her aside after . . . he should have convinced her how foolish their plan was . . . he should have convinced her to talk Sirius out of going through with it.

But he knew what she would have said. She would have said that this was all that stood in her way. If they could do this, if they could go back into that house one last time, then she would be free. And instead of him convincing her not to go through with it, she would have convinced him that it was the only way.

He still should have tried. His stomach churned at the memory of all that blood. But they were supposed to have arrived back from Grimmauld Place two days ago – the day before Christmas. That had been the plan. They’d been wondering what had been taking them so long . . . Not that they were wondering any longer.

He should have tried.

Charlus rubbed his face and Remus fleetingly wondered how long it had been since the man had so many wrinkles about his face.

Remus desperately wanted to ask the question that had slowly become his new mantra. Still, he found he couldn’t open his mouth long enough to do anything other than take another sip from his glass. And he didn’t know whether to tense or to relax when James voiced that mantra.

‘How bad . . .’ He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish.

Now it was Dorea’s turn to shuffle in her seat. She gave a short, soft sigh before leaning forwards, looking firmly between the two boys. ‘I’m not going to lie to either of you.’

Remus’ chest squeezed painfully.

‘If the last few hours have proved anything to me it’s that both of you can handle the reality of this.’ She turned to look out into the hall before addressing them again. ‘They’re both stable. I expect Sirius to regain consciousness later this evening and when that happens he’ll need your support.’ She was clear – firm but heartfelt and understanding, the perfect blend for a Healer dealing with a sensitive case. ‘Because I don’t expect that Lyra will be waking up anytime soon.’

_Lyra, Lyra, Lyra._

The words, that tragic melody, had returned. And it was deafening.

As Dorea turned her Healer’s gaze on him, she saw something in his face that had that detached, clam mask melt slightly.

‘She _will_ wake up, Remus,’ she assured him. ‘But she’s still critical and she’s going to have a pretty tough recovery.’ Her throat bobbed, the only sign of difficulty on her end. ‘Dark Magic isn’t exactly designed for quick healing.’

* * *

 

It was a while before the group silently split up and left the study, leaving the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey sitting forgotten on the desk.

Mr Potter left the house under the pretext of doing some work in the shed. Remus spotted him soon afterwards waving his wand in a rather complicated pattern around the perimeter of the house. No doubt reinforcing the estate’s protection. For some reason this did not make Remus feel any better, in fact, it may have made him feel worse.

James retreated to his room upstairs, Remus thought about following him but he had the sneaking suspicion that James would be writing Lily.

Mrs Potter went straight to the guest bedroom. Initially, Remus had made to follow her. He made it a meter from the door when he stopped abruptly. The memory of the blood-soaked twins held his legs still. Steadying his breathing, he willed the vision to vanish.

Sirius was awake when Remus entered the room. The raven-haired boy had rolled onto his side and was watching, unblinking, as Mrs Potter checked over Lyra. Mrs Potter took a jar from the bedside table, unscrewed it and applied a thick, pink paste to a cut running along Lyra’s right arm and to a few cuts that littered her face.

Those cuts on her pale skin seemed to taunt him, they screamed at him. He turned to look at Sirius instead.

He doubted his friend even realised Mrs Potter was in the room let alone recognising Remus’ presence. From the looks of it, Sirius might have been in a trance, he may even have been in shock from the way he was staring. That was until a single tear leaked from Sirius’ eye and trailed down his cheek.

Remus turned away from him too. But suddenly, there was nowhere else to look.    

XX

The last thing that ran through Remus’ head before sleep finally took him was that this may have been the longest day of his life.

* * *

‘What do you mean “they left”?’

Regulus tried as hard as he could to meet the hard stare of Lucius Malfoy, which proved a difficult thing despite the older man’s face being so close to his. A small trembling part of him was regretting ever coming to Malfoy Manor in the first place. But it was a very small part and the part of him that felt duty-bound to report what had just happened had easily overpowered it. 

 ‘My mother tried to stop him, but,’

‘And what were you doing during all this?’ Malfoy glared at him from across the table, his hands still pressed hard into the polished wood of the table.

‘I tried to stop him as well!’ Regulus tried again, starting to get frustrated by Malfoy’s dismissiveness. He was all too aware however of the lack of conviction in his own voice. He had tried to stop Sirius, when he had been in his bedroom, watching his brother prepare to leave and to take Lyra with him. Regulus had followed Sirius down the hall, after he had gathered his wits, but he still remembered how he’d frozen half way down the steps as he watched his mother unleash hell on her own son.

‘I don’t give a damn about your pathetic excuse of a brother, Black!’ Lucius growled at him. ‘And neither will the Dark Lord. You should’ve stopped him from taking _her_!’

‘He never would have left her there!’ Regulus’ calm broke, finally. This whole conversation was a pointless waste of time. He couldn’t think of any situation in which Sirius would’ve left the house whilst also leaving Lyra behind. The faster Malfoy accepted that fact the better it would be for the both of them. ‘What does she have to do with anything anyway?’

Lucius held his stern gaze for another moment before sighing, leaning away and slumping back down in his chair. He ran a hand over his pale, pointed face, it came to rest over his eyes.

‘Where are they now? I thought you said they usually spent the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts? Why return home now?’

Regulus thought it best not to provoke him further, he focussed on the question he could answer confidently. ‘My guess is that he fled to the Potters. But their house is one of the most protected dwellings in Britain, trying to penetrate it would be pointless.’

Lucius got up and strode over to the side table, he poured himself a honey coloured syrupy drink, sighing while he did it. ‘What in Merlin’s name were your parents thinking, Regulus.’ He put the stopper back in the crystal decanter and returned to the table. A wide-eyed Regulus watched him cross the room.

‘What will _he_ do to them?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Lucius took a sip. ‘If they were within arm’s reach, I have no doubt that he would punish them on the spot.’ Seeing the relief that overcame Regulus, Lucius said, louder this time, ‘But that does not mean that he won’t seek them out and punish them later, you should be thankful that your family’s house is well hidden. The fact that you have confided in me your desire to take the mark soon may just be enough to save you from punishment, but you will have to prove yourself, your worth to the Dark Lord and his cause.’ Regulus was just about to release the breath he had been holding until Lucius spoke again, softer this time, as if he was speaking to himself. ‘We’ll just have to wait until they return to Hogwarts.’

Regulus tried to keep his breathing steady as he tried again. ‘Why her?’

Lucius considered him for a moment. ‘You’re right,’ Regulus furrowed his brow but Lucius continued, not noticing. ‘Apart from being sorted into Gryffindor as well, she didn’t even come close to being as noteworthy as your unfortunate brother.’ He paused again. ‘Let’s just say that the Dark Lord has come across some information regarding her and is most eager in having it confirmed.’

Regulus didn’t need any more explanation. He knew exactly what kind of information the Dark Lord might have stumbled upon regarding his siblings. But they were rumours. They were nothing but unsubstantiated gossip spread by jealous pureblood housewives and then perpetuated in order to cover up disappointments. The Dark Lord couldn’t possibly believe any of them, surely. If he did though, that meant that his sister might be in a terrible amount of danger, as well as his mother.

‘And you might have a role play in that, Regulus,’ Lucius pointed a finger to him, pulling Regulus out of his disbelieving stupor. ‘The Dark Lord is not often denied what he desires, and when he is, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We journey with Sirius...  
> Explanations are given  
> We meet Marlene  
> and Lyra wakes up!

## Chapter Three

_After everything they’d been through, she supposed Sirius and Lyra could have ended up a lot worse. Perhaps it would be best to have it looked into though. Maybe something could be done. Maybe Lyra could get help._

* * *

 

‘Told you it’d work.’ Sirius tried to get his lips to twitch, tried to make it so that his voice didn’t sound so heavy. It wasn’t working.

James’ expression was annoyingly impassive, but Sirius was too tired to get angry or frustrated, in fact the energy he’d have to muster up to simply get irked wouldn’t be worth the effort . . . Having this conversation was barely worth the effort. Actually, if Sirius were being entirely honest with himself, he hadn’t found much that was worth the effort the last two days.

He was drained in every sense of the word. It was as if he’d spent too long out in the cold. The tips of his fingers were permanently numb and his eyelids were so heavy that every blink bore the threat of slipping into a deep sleep.

The fact that she hadn’t moved in two days wasn’t helping matters.

Sirius had refused to move beyond the door to the room where Lyra was being kept. He couldn’t leave her, not while she was like this.

He’d told Mrs Potter as much when the suggestion of his moving into James’ room was made. His objection grew after he was advised that he’d have to stay in bed once he was up there. If it was the option of lying in bed in a room by himself or one where he could watch over her, he’d choose the latter.

Sirius assumed that Mrs Potter hadn’t pushed the matter because she believed that he was merely playing the role of the concerned brother. And he _was_ concerned, of course he was, his concern was a painful ever-present throb lodged between his ribs. But he didn’t feel it completely necessary to tell her that the real reason he preferred to stay with Lyra was because he didn’t know what state she’d be in when she finally regained consciousness.

It scared him too much to think about.

No, it was best if he stayed close by, it was best if he was the first one she saw . . . and the first one who saw her.

He looked away from James – who continued to stand there, frowning down at him – looked across the room and once again began to catalogue the progress of her various wounds.

Whatever that pink salve of Mrs Potter’s was, it was working miracles. The small cuts to Lyra’s face had completely disappeared. The long, deep cut to her arm had already scabbed and was in the process of flaking off, making way for a long, thin, raised white scar to emerge.

The wounds on her stomach were covered most of the time, but Mrs Potter came in regularly to change her dressings and apply more of the salve. And every time she exposed them for him to see Sirius had to supress a shudder of horror and rage.

Finally, James sighed and sat down next to him.

‘You were supposed to have arrived days ago.’

Indeed, that had been the plan; Remus, Sirius, Lyra and James were to spend Christmas and the rest of the holidays at the Potter’s. Peter was with his mother, visiting relatives abroad . . . Merlin wouldn’t they have a story to tell him when they returned to Hogwarts.

Except Sirius had never shown, because he had been at home, trying to stop his parents from killing her, from killing him.

His skin flushed with itchy heat and he supressed a growl.

‘I know,’ Sirius said as calmly as he could.

From his peripheral, he could see James running a nervous hand through his already dishevelled hair. After a few, slightly tense moments, the bespectacled boy sighed again.

‘Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters really. Right?’ He clapped Sirius on the shoulder and stood up. ‘I’m going to see where Moony’s got to, wanna come?’

Sirius had to dig deep to be able to shake his head. ‘Go ahead.’

James appeared to accept defeat relatively quickly this time and left the room.

Now that the only source of distraction had left, there was nothing to keep the shards of memory at bay.

Horrified screams and pleads polluted the now still and silent air of the Potter’s guest bedroom. They grew steadily louder, closer, thicker, ringing painfully around his head. The sound of his own name being called out in such panic and fear wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed, squeezed until he could no longer sit still.

Standing suddenly, blinking rapidly, he limped from the room, leaving the silence behind him.

There was no point in re-living it. They had escaped that place, finally, he wouldn’t allow his mind to remain trapped there as well. All of it was over. Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe this was just a brief break in the storm, a fleeting respite where he could take a few deep breaths before he’d be struggling for air once more.

He would have been happy to enjoy this momentary victory. Except for when he looked across the room and saw her lying there red-hot anger coursed like lava into his throat. It was in these moments – that, more often than not, occurred when Mrs Potter would come to check on Lyra’s progress – that had him questioning just what his first words to her would be.

‘That’s not what I meant Dorea!’

Sirius faltered, looking around. He was outside the Potter’s library. Unusually, the door was closed. Normally it would be kept open, as was the case with most of the doors in this house. Since his arrival, however, Sirius had noticed the increased numbers of shut doors.

‘But there’s only so much we can do before our hands become tied.’

‘Can’t you at least conduct a raid on that house?’

Sirius was fairly confident he knew who’s house the Potters were talking about. He supposed he should feel somewhat optimistic, what with being in the house of the old head of the Auror department and all, but the truth, the reality of the situation, bore down on him like a pressing weight on his chest.

And he knew he shouldn’t have been listening in on a private conversation like a sneak in the dark, again, but he just didn’t have the energy to move on. He’d never be able to decide whether it was curiosity that kept him there or exhaustion that kept him from leaving. None of that mattered, however, for when the pressing weight lessened, he found that the voices on the other side of the door had eased too, serving a shift in topic.

‘Well, Sirius’ leg is still on the mend.’

 Sirius’ attention snagged on the sound of his name.

‘I’d prefer it if he stayed in bed and didn’t use it for a while but –’

‘But we both know how useless it would be to expect that,’ Mr Potter finished, a hint of a smile in his voice. ‘Besides it’d be good for him to get out of that room for a bit, it’ll help get him thinking about other things.’

Sirius scowled, he could feel that ‘other thing’, the one Mr Potter was trying not to mention, growing in the back of his mind.

‘Well, I know James has been trying to help, but he’s also trying to do the same for Remus.’

_Ah yes, James the saint_ , Sirius relented a humourless smirk.

‘How’s she doing?’ There was nothing amusing in Mr Potter’s voice now.

Sirius heard a short huff before Mrs Potter reported, ‘I can’t understand it. She is healing faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. I mean, that cut on her arm is proof enough!’

‘But you’ve been applying that salve you made especially for her wounds twice a day –’

‘I should be applying it much more regularly than that, and I should be using much more of it as well!’

‘So what do you make of it?’

There was a brief pause. Sirius closed the half-step that remained between himself and the library door. _She can’t know. It’s not possible._ Sirius held his breath.

‘I can’t be sure,’ she said. ‘I suppose youth could be a factor, or maybe the original wound wasn’t as bad as we thought?’ Her voice had dwindled into uncertainty and Sirius gritted his teeth in agreement. Both of her arguments could very easily be translated into a simple ‘I don’t know.’

Sirius could feel his teeth grinding together, scraping against each other. It would have been painful if he had been paying attention to it. He’d noticed her scars as well, but he was used to her quick healing and he’d been far too tired to notice the perplexed looks Mrs Potter had been giving them.

Should he try and come up with a cover story? He knew he was a decent liar but that would require some pretty creative thinking. And would it be worth it? James’ parents weren’t simpletons after all, chances are they’d see through him after the first sentence. But what other options did that leave him with? He could tell them the truth, in turn they would tell Dumbledore and then Lyra would most likely kill her brother the first chance she got. Sirius supressed a shudder.

‘The Cruciatus?’

Sirius stopped again. He had been about to turn around, surely someone would be walking this way soon and this wasn’t the best look. He’d stay for a few seconds more.

‘I hate to think of it but she and Sirius both were severely dehydrated. Dehydration is one of the main side effects of the Cruciatus. I can’t rule it out.’

Sirius’ head was pounding suddenly and he was walking back towards the guest bedroom before he realised what he was doing.

He’d got to the foot of his bed before he stopped. Turning to face his unconscious sister, he could barely keep the sneer off his face.

‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’ He hissed across the room.

* * *

‘Sirius, please, we need to know.’

They were sitting at the small dining table in the small, sun-lit kitchen. On one side sat Mr and Mrs Potter, Mr Potter with his arms folded loosely across his chest, Mrs Potter’s hands rested on the table top. She kept moving to lean forward, but would always pull up, drawing in her shoulders instead, as if resisting the urge to reach across the table to take Sirius’ hands.

Sirius reckoned she would’ve too, which is partly why he kept his hands firmly stuffed in the pockets of the jumper he’d borrowed from James.

Sirius looked down at the wooden table, not really seeing it. Half his mid still hadn’t left the Potter’s guest bedroom, the other half was contemplating what answering Mrs Potter’s question would mean.

It would mean that those people he once called ‘family’ would finally know justice. It would mean that he and Lyra would become more of a target than they were already likely to become, than they already were. And it would mean telling the two people he looked up to more than anyone else how much of a coward he really was.

‘Sirius,’ Mr Potter’s voice was low, quiet and more serious than it had ever been, including the ordeal of a few nights previous, ‘in order to help both you and Lyra, medically, we need to know what we’re dealing with.’

Sirius’ eyes shot up to meet the older man’s. _In order to help Lyra_. Lyra, whose condition was still critical, Lyra, who still hadn’t regained consciousness, Lyra, who had been through so much. Yes, for Lyra he could admit to his cowardice, for Lyra, he would do anything.

‘Yes, they used it.’

The Potter’s withdrew slightly, shock momentarily making their eyes widen before they narrowed once more.

‘How many times?’

Sirius swallowed, thankful that James and Remus had left the room when the conversation had turned tense. ‘Twice on me, once that I know of on Lyra.’

‘That you know of?’

Sirius couldn’t hold onto Mrs Potter’s stare, he didn’t want to see the shame that was about to fill them.

‘The one time they used it against her in my presence, they looked nervous after, it didn’t last long, it was like they didn’t realise I was there, when they did they stopped right away.’ Sirius swallowed the tightness in his throat. ‘They had a habit of doing things behind closed doors. I never tried to think about what they did to her behind hers. I didn’t want to know. I hoped that if I didn’t assume the worst then it wouldn’t come true.’

The Potter’s jumped when Sirius’ fist slammed down on the table.

‘I should’ve done something!’ There it was, if he was going to admit to his cowardice he might as well tell them the true extent of it. ‘I didn’t _do_ anything! I sat in my room, thinking about the next stupid prank I’d help pull with James.’ From somewhere far away Sirius felt warmth coat his cheeks, and an arm that had come to wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him close to them, making his ragged breathing soften slightly. ‘Afterwards,’ Sirius said softly, ‘I’d go into her room, I’d pretend she was sleeping, but I knew, I always knew.’

‘Sirius, now you listen to me,’ came Mrs Potter’s voice from close next to him, ‘the only thing that matters now is that you’re safe, both of you. No one blames you for anything.’ Sirius shook his head. ‘We’re proud of you,’ came her reply.

After what could have been minutes or hours Sirius pulled away from Mrs Potter’s embrace, refusing to meet the gaze of either of them.  

‘Now, why don’t you go back to the room,’ Mrs Potter said. ‘I’ll be in in a minute to check on Lyra.’

Sirius made his way numbly out of the kitchen and down the hallway. As he grew closer to the guest bedroom he heard voices that grew louder and louder with each passing step.

‘What are we going to do!?’

Even without seeing him Sirius could tell that James was pacing furiously. And before he even heard Remus answer, Sirius pictured him, sitting on the edge of the bed Sirius had been occupying, looking calmly up as James paced in front of him, before dropping his gaze to the girl lying in the bed opposite.

‘There’s not much we _can_ do, James,’ came Remus’ sigh. Sirius had reached the door but stayed outside and out of sight. Suddenly the thought of facing them, of having to talk again, made him utterly exhausted. So instead he leaned his head up against the wall next to the doorframe and listened in on the two boys. ‘The Blacks are a very influential family, James, they’d have plenty of connections at the Ministry that would surely protect them from whatever raids the Ministry attempts to conduct.’

Sirius shook his head softly, he hated it when Remus was right.

‘Well if you think I’m just going to sit here and do nothing then you’ve got another thing coming, my friend.’

‘And just what do you propose?’

‘Not letting it be for nothing.’

Remus looked up immediately and found Sirius as soon as he stepped over the threshold. James froze, simply standing in front of Sirius for a few seconds, eyes wide and searching.

Sirius looked at both of them for a moment and then across at Lyra. ‘We got what we went in for. We’re going to Gringott’s as soon as she’s able.’

 And then, in two great strides, James crossed the room and enveloped Sirius in a hug. Sirius gripped onto the boy fiercely.

Without saying a word, Sirius withdrew from James and went to sit on the side of Lyra’s bed. She was so still, her arms on either side of her. Sirius reached and held one of her hands in his own.

‘So, I guess that means you’re staying here for good then!’ James said, his voice back to its normal upbeat jovial tone.

Sirius shook his head, looking back to his sister, he almost missed the fact that he was now grinning as well.

* * *

Something had woken him up, slowly, so slowly in fact that he could no longer tell if he was dreaming or not. The flickering flame of his bedside table’s lamp answered his question. That was what had woken him, the flickering had worked itself through his closed lids and into his dreams until it had forced him to awaken.

He sat bolt upright when the flame suddenly flickered and went out. Sirius checked the window in the moonlight and saw that it was shut. He looked again at the lamp and reached out to it. He was a fingernails length away from it when it burst in to life again. It almost broke through the glass.

And then suddenly the window opened, then shut, it groaned in an unfelt howling wind as the light continued to flicker violently. Sirius leapt from his bed, rushing to the window, he went to shut it when it suddenly shook in great waves of tremors in it’s frame.

Lyra’s pained moans cut through Sirius’ confusion. He threw himself down at her bedside and gripped her hands tightly. She started to toss, her breathing shallow as she began to shout out. As she shouted a wind began to howl louder around Sirius’ ears.

‘Lyra!’ He called out to her, his voice barely heard over the wind. ‘Lyra wake up! Lyra!’

And then there was silence, the wind stopped, the window slammed shut and the flame was snuffed, leaving them in nothing but cold moonlight. But through it Sirius could see everything, most of all he could see Lyra’s silver eyes staring up at him. 

‘Sirius?’ She moaned, and just like that, her eyelids dropped. Sirius was afraid she’d passed out again until she shifted, opening her eyes, much more slowly this time. Her half-opened eyes flickered over the room that was bathed in blue moonlight, the space between her eyebrows pulling together as she did so. ‘Where are we?’ Her voice was so soft, so weak, so panicked.

Sirius put a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to get her to stay still. ‘We’re at the Potters.’

She stared at him. He actually felt a pulse of pain when he noticed that the ring of silver encasing her irises, that was normally strangely bright and positively swimming, were now so incredibly dull that it had all but disappeared. Sirius had to grab her hand when it rose, reaching for his face that was still sporting a cut lip. ‘Don’t.’

‘But you’re hurt.’

‘And so are you.’

It was as if she was suddenly hit with a silent curse at his words, Lyra sunk further into the bed as she groaned.

‘Shh, where does it hurt?’

Lyra groaned again. ‘My middle.’

Sirius smoothed her hair. ‘It’s alright. Why don’t you get some rest, we’ll talk more later, okay?’

Lyra nodded, softly saying ‘alright’ and after a few moments she was still once more.

Sirius stayed there kneeling next to her bed for a while, his eyes flicking over to the unlit candle on the bed side every so often. Finally, he rose from the floor, his knees protesting as he stretched them out. Not really feeling up to facing the blackness of sleep just yet, he left the room –  wincing as he was forced to limp – and headed for the kitchen. Once he’d reached it, he flicked his wand blindly, illuminating the room.

‘Holy-!’ Sirius jumped as he looked up from the floor, finding a thoroughly unperturbed Marlene McKinnon sitting atop the kitchen counter munching on a chocolate biscuit.

‘Quiet down, Black,’ she said, looking around the room. She hopped off the counter and made her way into the large walk-in pantry. After a few seconds, Marlene reappeared holding a glass of orange juice. Finally, she looked at Sirius.

‘You look awful,’ she said blandly, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

Sirius rolled his eyes now that the shock had worn off. Of course it would be Marlene bloody McKinnon who he would meet at four in the morning in the Potter’s kitchen, he should’ve been expecting it, really. After he’d grabbed a biscuit for himself he sat down at the table opposite her.

‘How the hell did you get in here? This house is supposed to be protected.’

‘You don’t really think that the Potter’s would shut out their neighbours though, do you?’

‘One can dream,’ Sirius mumbled, mouth full of biscuit.

This time it was she who rolled her eyes. ‘So,’ her voice was a bit more serious this time, ‘how are the two Black Bandits doing, anyway?’

Sirius looked at her incredulously. ‘No one has _ever_ called us that!’ When she gave no response, he continued. ‘Lyra’s,’ he tried to figure out the best way to continue, ‘Lyra’s resting. She –she didn’t have the best time of it.’ Somehow, he knew that she knew what had happened over the last few days, he wasn’t sure how, but it’s McKinnon . . . the girl had an annoying habit of knowing more than she had any right to.

There was a voice somewhere in his head telling him that he shouldn’t be telling her this. But it was Marlene McKinnon for Merlin’s sake! She had been rooming with Lyra for the last six and a half years. She was James’ neighbour, the closest thing the boy had to a sister, and she was no stranger to what went on in the stricter Pureblood families.

Marlene did nothing but raise a single eyebrow, if Sirius were anyone else he probably would’ve started fidgeting under her gaze. As it were, he calmly waited for her to talk again.

‘And how are you holding up?’ It was hard to find anything but mild curiosity in her voice.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’ The bitterness in his was unmistakable.

‘Hmm,’ was all she said. The two fell in to a somewhat comfortable, if not a little strained, silence for a while, the only noise came from the grandfather clock standing in the living room down the hall.

‘Well,’ Sirius almost jumped again when she finally broke the silence. ‘I daresay that you’ll be seeing me before the holidays are up – a prospect that thrills you, I’m sure.’ She smirked. ‘But until then, I’ll leave you to it.’ She rose from the table, putting her cup on the counter top. She gave Sirius a little nod of the head, swung open the back door and casually strolled off into the darkness.

As Sirius sat there he couldn’t help but be just a bit unnerved with the new-found knowledge that she could come and go from this house whenever she pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that the name of James' parents wasn't Charlus and Dorea but I prefer these names to the real ones, I hope no one minds ...


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions  
> Confrontations  
> and Walburga Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading this story. Special thanks to z_falk and guest who left kudos and to kislow who also bookmarked :)  
> Would love to hear people's thoughts.  
> Hope you like this instalment

## Chapter Four

_Horror shook through her like seizing convulsions . . . And for the smallest second . . . a second that almost stretched long enough to consume her completely, Lyra hated her brother – her twin . . . It couldn’t be true. She was dreaming. This was one of her nightmares . . . one of her horrible nightmares._

* * *

 

Lyra had been awake for two days now. After the first night, Sirius had moved into James’ room – the Potter’s had conjured yet another bed . . . thankfully, James’ room was big enough for this not to leave them cramped.

But even though he slept upstairs in James’ room, he still spent most of his time in the guest bedroom. Lyra was still weak but, as Mrs Potter had observed, she was improving quickly.

Now that she was awake, however, the simmering anger that had slowly been growing . . . growling within him whilst she was unconscious, had dimmed. It was now mixing with other emotions that had been swirling within him since that day they escaped. He wasn’t sure whether to yell at her or to thank Merlin that her eyes were finally opened.

That didn’t stop him from approaching her when he was sure she could take it – late in the night, five days after they’d arrived – and addressing the one thing that had been fuelling his rage above all else.

‘They could have killed you!’

‘And they _would have_ killed you!’

Sirius pulled up. He clenched his jaw as he rubbed his temples – the image of Lyra breaking free of their mother’s hold and grabbing his hand. He could still feel the heat that had washed through him at her touch and the horror he’d felt soon after when he realised what she’d done.

Shaking away the image, he looked at her. It would be easy to tell himself that she was still weak, that they shouldn’t be yelling at one another. But then she leaned forwards, looking right into his eyes and he realised that she didn’t need to yell, she’d never needed to.

‘You cannot tell me that you would have done nothing . . . If you had the option that I had, in that moment . . . you cannot sit here and tell me that you wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing.’

His jaw clenched tighter.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she said, leaning back into her pillows, closing her eyes.

In his mind’s eye, Sirius saw himself saying all the things he wanted to say in that moment as guilt reared within him. Then he imagined her response and the words that had been bubbling uncomfortably in his throat receded.

She didn’t open her eyes as he stood. Fishing around in his pockets he found what he was looking for, he withdrew it from the back pocket of his jeans and tossed it into Lyra’s lap. Her eyes opened immediately.

‘What’s this?’ She held up the folded parchment.

‘Open it.’

She did, narrowed eyes still focussed on Sirius. Only when it was spread out in front of her did she tear her eyes away from him. A number of emotions flickered across her face before it finally settled somewhere between elation and disbelief.

‘You found it!’

‘It was in Father’s desk, in the secret compartment he didn’t think anyone but he would be smart enough to get into,’ Sirius said with no small amount of triumph.

‘But Mother disinherited us,’ Lyra said, frowning down at the parchment, ‘wouldn’t that now mean that this is null and void?’

‘I thought of that too. But I think we should double check, just to make sure.’

Lyra nodded distractedly, still skimming the words before her. It was Sirius’ turn to frown when she let out a breathy chuckle.

‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ She held up the parchment. ‘This is why we went back there, we thought that having this would free us . . . turns out that there was another option.’

‘I wouldn’t call being nearly killed another option,’ Sirius muttered.

‘Doesn’t matter . . . after what happened at that dinner with the Rosier’s I couldn’t see them having put up with us for too much longer anyways.’

It was as if a spark had been struck in Sirius’ mind. He couldn’t believe that he’d almost forgotten about the dinner – it was the reason that they’d had to delay their plans after all. Now that she mentioned it, the memory of all that had occurred . . .  all that had been said . . . all that had been implied, came rushing back to him at an almost dizzying pace.

‘We need to talk about what happened that night, Lyra . . .’

* * *

Remus rolled over with a groan. The light from the moon rolled in through the open window. He was tempted to get up and slam the window shut, as if this would somehow block out his discomfort.

_As if._

                Clumsily grabbing for the glass of water on his bedside table, Remus almost groaned again upon discovering it empty. He carefully slipped from his bed and tiptoed over to the door. Looking back into the room he found that his caution wasn’t needed as Sirius’ bed was empty, the covers thrown back messily, and it was a well-known fact that James would sleep through an earthquake.

Frowning, Remus made his way downstairs, glass firmly clutched in his hand.

When he was halfway down the staircase, Remus heard murmurs and saw the soft, distant glow of a flickering flame. The murmurs and the glow grew and when he’d reached the landing he could make out two distinct voices.

He knew he shouldn’t, he should go to the kitchen, fill up his glass and go back upstairs to bed. Later he would tell himself that the reason he failed to do these things was a result of Sirius and James’ bad influence on him. So, instead of heading towards the direction of the kitchen, he turned towards the back of the house and followed the light and voices.

Both had him stopping just outside the room Lyra was staying in. Remus had at first been tempted to run in and offer his help, thinking that Lyra had relapsed, but then he heard Lyra’s voice and he could tell from the clear way she spoke that she was in no danger. So Remus just hid and listened.

‘Sirius, we’ve been through this.’ Remus heard a great deal of restraint in Lyra’s voice. ‘Can’t we just drop it?’

‘No!’

Remus blinked. He hadn’t been expecting Sirius to sound so, so harsh.

‘You’re not going to ignore this one, Lyra. You can’t just do that with everything you don’t like thinking about.’

Remus pictured Lyra clenching her jaw.

_Better tread lightly, Sirius._

‘I’ve apologised for what I did at dinner,’ Lyra said with deadly calm.

‘I’m not talking about what _you_ did!’

Remus blinked again.

‘And I’ve told you before, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were brilliant.’

‘Sirius,’ Lyra warned.

A chair scraped on the floor boards and Remus had to take half a step closer to the doorway as Sirius lowered his voice.

‘I’m talking about what triggered it.’

Lyra groaned half-heartedly.

‘There was more to that conversation than what was being said and I know you know it too, there’s no point denying _that_.’

‘I’m not denying anything. I just don’t know why you want to look into it so much. What are you hoping to learn from all this, anyway?’

There was a moments silence. Remus used it to try and make some sort of sense of what he was hearing. But, try as he might, he couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. He could feel the tension seeping from the room and it was making it very hard to concentrate. He simply found himself staring blankly down the dark hallway.

‘Just tell me that you’re not connecting any of this to that ridiculous rumour.’

Another pause. Lyra groaned again, there was nothing half-hearted about it this time though.

‘I will _never_ understand why you choose to be dragged in to this . . . this nonsense!’

‘You’ve got to admit that it would explain some things, though, wouldn’t it?’

There was a pregnant pause. If Sirius meant what Remus thought he meant then he could imagine the glare he was receiving right now. Remus suppressed a shudder.

‘Look, we have had this haunting us our whole lives. And if it’s true then it might just be the key to everything. There’s a war going on out there, Lyra!’

‘What’s your point, Sirius!’ Lyra snapped.

‘Don’t you want to help if you can?’ Sirius’ voice was soft, almost . . . pleading. ‘I just need to know . . . and since the rumour is about us, I think I’m entitled to some answers and whatever was being said at dinner that night had something more to do with that rumour then either of us know.’

‘No, Sirius, you _don’t_ need to know. Honestly you and James can’t help but stick your noses into places they ought not to go, that’s a sure-fire way to get them blown off if you ask me – not to mention every other part of you.’

‘I have every right and reason to go looking for answers, Lyra. They were obviously hiding something from us, and not just Mother and Father, but everyone that night. And you can’t pretend it didn’t have anything to do with us, not after this, not after what’s happened because of it. When we go to Gringotts I’m going to try and see what I can find.’

‘I don’t think you’re going to find any clues about it in Diagon Alley.’

There was yet another break in the twins heated conversation, this one seemed to be stretching a bit. Remus was about to turn and leave, knowing that some of the twins’ conversations sometimes ended in abrupt silences, both of them being as stubborn as the other. But then he heard his name.

‘Do you really think that James or Remus, are just going to let you take a leisurely stroll down Knockturn Alley? – Not to mention the fact that I’ll be there as well.’

Knockturn Alley? Remus could list at least four bookshops other than Flourish and Blotts that could be found in Diagon Alley. Knockturn Alley was a place dedicated to the Dark Arts, or anyone associated with it. The only reason it still stood was that nothing particularly overt ever happened there. Those who ventured into the dark streets all had ways of concealing their activities that had proved untraceable. Remus may not know much about Pureblood society but what he did know, from what he’d been told, is that the Black twins now had targets on their backs and Knockturn Alley would not be the place to get rid of them.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that sometimes words are just words. Yes, our . . . situation is unique, but that doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with Dark Magic.’

‘I’m just trying to help, Lyra.’

Remus heard her sigh. ‘I know.’

The silence this time was different, it had a certain sense of finality which the previous ones had lacked.

As Remus silently climbed the stairs again, empty glass forgotten in his hand, he thought about telling James what he’d heard. Maybe if James kept a closer eye on him, Sirius wouldn’t have the chance to sneak away. Because Lyra was right, anything to do with Knockturn Alley was dangerous.

What he didn’t understand, however, was what the entire conversation that was still repeating over and over again in his head was all about. And he started asking the question that, perhaps, should have been posed when the twins had appeared at the Potter’s doorstep, bloody and dying.

After all this time, after suffering silently for so long, what had finally lead this to go from bad to worse?

And maybe more importantly, what the hell happened at that dinner?

One thing was for certain, Remus couldn’t wait to get back to Hogwarts so that everything could return to normal.

* * *

If there was one thing Walburga Black would never do, it would be to let anyone see anything but how confident she was. And this is what she thought, like a mantra repeating within her, with every clip of her heels on the cobbled stone, of every swing of her dragon hide purse as she strode through Diagon Alley.

She avoided the gazes of those she did not know but gave a stiff nod of the head to those she recognised. And as she approached the back end of the Alley, she never lost that well practiced confidence and the grace that came with it. And as she passed the grimy sign that read Knockturn Alley, only briefly looking at it before making her way down into the shadowed lane, her posture only became taller.

Knockturn Alley was one feature of Wizarding London that would surely never change. It had not changed for many years, from it’s blackened bricks to the shops that lined the Alley and the whores and beggars that filled it. So Walburga didn’t have to look down at them as she strode on through, she had no need to glance in store windows or to the street signs, for she remembered where she was going.

A peculiar high pitched tune seemed to echo off into the far corners of the dark shop as Walburga Black entered through the heavy wooden front door. She tried to ignore how it lingered as she pulled her gloves off a finger at a time.

The tune faded to give way to clicking, like the click of a shoe heel . . . or the tip of a cane – a sound that was all too familiar.

Walburga looked hastily into the surrounding darkness, searching for the source of the noise.

The front windows were covered in thick, dark drapes, the glass that they failed to cover was thick with decades worth of grime and dirt. There was no way of anyone on the outside being able to see what was going on within the shop.

A small barred window was set close to the ceiling along the far back wall of the small room. A small stream of striped light was able to break through but failed to reach to where Walburga now stood, still not too far from the entry. What little light that did manage to tear it’s way into the shop fell lazily against the back wall and the desk that was set a metre from it. The dark wood was chipping and splintering away, peeling back from years of neglect. Splatters of dried liquid painted the surface and had slid down the sides before running out of momentum. Walburga didn’t allow herself to contemplate what the splatters may be. Anything beyond this desk was shrouded in an unnatural haze.

Walburga could make out the silhouettes of tall, long shelves, laden with heavy looking books and potion bottles – big and small – lining the remaining walls. Some of the books lay open, as if abandoned halfway through perusal, others looked as if they were moving, wriggling, their edges flapping in an unfelt breeze.

The clicking grew louder until a hunched, grey haired and thoroughly grimy looking woman appeared on behind the desk, a long, spindly walking stick gripped in her frail hand. As the old woman regarded Walburga she started to smile slowly.

‘Well, well, well,’ her voice could only be likened to a creaking door, painfully drawn out and broken, ‘if it isn’t the reverent Mrs Black, I haven’t seen you in a very long time, my dear. What’s it been, close to eighteen years now?’

Walburga scowled at the old hag’s smirk.

‘And what brings you to me this time? Do you wish to discuss another. . .’ she paused, looking about the room, as if the right words would appear out of the open books on the shelves, ‘business opportunity with me?’

Walburga scoffed. ‘Hardly. I am not someone who makes the same mistakes twice.’ She took another look around the room, dismissing the hag, who, Walburga was pleased to note, had lost the edge to her smirk. ‘No, I have come to discuss the last _dealing_ we conducted together. I trust you remember how the conversation we had over _that_ topic turned out?’

From the corner of her eye, Walburga saw the hag touch her side gingerly and wince as she did it.

‘You may have tricked me once before with your ability to find loopholes in the dealings you conduct, but I can assure you that the resultant lesson in caution has become a most valuable commodity.’ Walburga turned to look at the elderly witch again. ‘Thank you for that.’ She gave a tight-lipped, mocking smile. ‘You once told me that there would be a price to be paid for your services. I’m sure you’ve heard by now what has transpired within my family. I’m not sure how you would know but I do not doubt your ability to obtain information that I would otherwise prefer to keep private . . . another lesson you taught me,' she sneered, something she would never do outside this prison.

‘Ask what you came here to ask,’ was all the response she got.

‘Has the price been paid?’

‘I told you that patience will lead you to the knowledge of that price.’

Walburga narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits as a flood of cold fear flooded through her, the heat of frustration washing it away immediately. ‘I have been patient for long enough!’ She hissed. ‘You may have thought that I had forgotten your words, and perhaps for a time I managed to put it out of my mind, but circumstances have changed. Now I want to know when you plan on settling our account, and how. And I want to know exactly what other consequences our deal had,’ a shadow that had nothing to do with the lack of light fell over Walburga’s face as she stepped solidly towards the hag. ‘Because it seems that there were quite a few.’

And she was astonished when the hag’s smirk grew tenfold, not that Walburga would ever let it show.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley...

## Chapter Five

_Her jaw clenched, her skin becoming steel-hard as he brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek and jaw. As Lyra closed her eyes, shutting out the world, Sirius narrowed his. How he wanted to charge at the man, to tear his fingers from his hand. Sirius’ nostrils flared dangerously as their captor stared at Lyra._

_'Lovely Lyra . . . that’s what they call you, isn’t it?’ He said it with a light smile, an expression of wonder, of awe, of longing consuming his face and eyes._

_Sirius struggled desperately against the ropes that held him. Lyra didn’t even look as if she was breathing she was so still, the shift in the air was the only indication of just how aware she was._

* * *

 

It was the day before they were set to return to Hogwarts – it would be their last term before graduating . . . a most nauseating prospect.

Lyra tended not to think too far into the future. She had surprised herself when she had managed to get anything out in her fifth year when McGonagall asked about her plans after Hogwarts. She remembered making something up about magizoology, but of course, that was a lie. The truth was that she was having a hard-enough time getting through a single day, let alone thinking about what was going to happen a few months from now.

Mrs Potter had been applying her pink salve – a medicine of her own making – twice daily to the wounds on her stomach, which would now forever be scarred . . . a permanent reminder of just what it meant to be a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. She could feel the salve working . . . but she could tell it’s healing effects were only seeping in so deep . . . and it wasn’t deep enough. But she couldn’t do anything about it here, not in this house, not with so many people around, checking up on her almost hourly. She’d have to wait till she returned to Hogwarts – for now, Mrs Potter’s remedy would have to suffice, until she had enough privacy to couple it with her own solution.

Lyra bit back a groan as she stood up, the muscles in her stomach and the wounds there stiff from her night’s rest. She got dressed whilst trying to move as little as possible and hissed every time she was forced to twist, making her wounds stretch.

Mrs Potter had advised against her leaving the house but Lyra had assured her that she was feeling much better. And whilst the wounds across her stomach were still ghastly red, and the areas around them mottled with patches of blue, black and purple, her strength and mobility had almost completely returned. A little trip into Diagon Alley wouldn’t take too much out of her . . . and besides, she was to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow, clearly the time for resting was over.

James and Remus accompanied the twins into Diagon Alley. The place was positively buzzing with Hogwarts students who had decided to leave it till the last minute to spend the money they’d received for Christmas. But even with the streets so full, the slightly crooked structure that was Gringotts Bank towered over all the other buildings.

When the four were standing before the Bank’s marble steps, they turned to one another and said their goodbyes – Remus and James were going to meet up with Remus’ parents at the Leaky Cauldron whilst the twins went to their meeting. They’d all agreed to meet up in half an hour at the pub.

Sirius strode confidently up the steps and even winked at the guards by the door as he entered the bank. Lyra averted her eyes from them as she followed.

Lyra always felt nervous in Diagon Alley. There were far too many people than she was used to. There was too much energy in the air . . . too much magic . . . too much excitement. But once she crossed the threshold into the bank the energy changed . . . not softened necessarily, but smoothed out, became more refined.

She looked around, trying to keep her head low, and saw the goblins in their booths, counting rubies and gems the size of Occamy eggs, others were tending to witches and wizards – handing over pouches and keys. Each Goblin was working with the utmost proficiency and focus, as if each task was undoubtedly the most important thing in the world. Lyra had to admire their dedication – if not their calming energy.

Sirius spotted a Goblin who seemed to be free and made his way over to him. The Goblin didn’t acknowledge them as they stood before his booth.

Sirius coughed impatiently, raising an eyebrow when the Goblin slowly raised his head and met Sirius’ expectant gaze with one of the most grating type of frustration.

‘We’re here for a pre-arranged meeting with a . . . Gornuk,’ Sirius said, consulting a letter he’d received a few days ago. ‘If you please,’ he added smugly.

Lyra would have to remember to yell at him later.

The Goblin narrowed his eyes and held out his hand, silently asking to inspect the letter. Sirius gave it to him and waited for the details to be confirmed. The Goblin’s glare only deepened but he motioned them to follow him nonetheless.

Sirius and Lyra were lead away from the main foyer to a narrow hallway. Doors to what could only be assumed to be offices lined the walls. The Goblin ushered them to the third one down on the left and knocked on the door, not waiting for a response before opening it.

As soon as it clicked open, Sirius pushed it the rest of the way and walked straight in. Lyra couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes and made sure to thank the Goblin as she passed him – which only resulted in another look of suspicion from the small creature. The door clicked shut behind them when they were both inside.

The room was small, bathed in gold light from an ornate chandelier swinging gently above them. Filing cabinets lined the back of the office. They were constantly opening and shutting on their own, files and bits of parchment soaring in and out, moving from one draw to another, or simply just whizzing through the air and sliding under the door out of the room.

A desk, inlaid with gold, sat before the cabinets. It was surprisingly sparse considering all that was going on amongst the cabinets behind it. Sitting on a tall chair, looking expectantly across at them, sat a stately looking Goblin, who Lyra could now only assume was Gornuk.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Mr and Miss Black, I presume?’ He said, more of a demand rather than an actual question.

Sirius closed the distance between where he stood and the desk. He withdrew the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and put it on the table in front of Gornuk, who glanced down at it impassively.

‘We need to know if this contract is still binding.’

‘Sirius!’ Lyra warned under her breath. She had lectured him in the past about showing proper respect . . . lectures that had obviously been nothing but a waste of breath. She brushed past him and took one of the empty chairs. The seat was made from hard wood and did nothing to ease the soft pain from her stomach as she sat.

Gornuk looked away from the contract and reclined in his own seat – a high-backed, plush thing, almost resembling a throne – and regarded Sirius and Lyra for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for something. It wasn’t until he lowered his eyes to the empty chair before the desk that what he was waiting for became clear. Sirius looked as if he was about to groan in annoyance as he sat down. Thankfully for everyone in the room, he managed to control himself.

‘Our records regarding the Black family has recently changed.’ He clicked his long fingers and a file pushed out of one of the cabinets and soared onto the desk, opening up so that Gornuk could consult it. ‘It would appear that one Master Regulus Arcturus Black is now the heir to the Black family fortune and that the two of you – one Master Sirius Orion Black and one Miss Lyra Carina Black – have been disinherited.’

Lyra could practically hear Sirius’ teeth grinding. ‘Yes, we’re aware of it.’

‘As this is now the case,’ Gornuk continued, ignoring Sirius’ interruption, ‘all contracts pertaining to the two of you, or those made on your behalves have been severed, as such a time exists in which you are reinstated into the family or you inherit the fortune following the death of the last remining male heir who still remains in good standing within the family.’

Lyra’s stomach churned at the thought of Regulus’ implied death.

‘So, what you’re saying,’ Sirius gritted out impatiently, ‘is that this contract has been severed.’

Gornuk was now glaring daggers at Sirius. He stewed a little before unfurling his clenched, thin lips. ‘Yes, Mr Black, that is what I am saying.’

‘Good.’ Sirius stood up, the legs of his wooden chair squealing against the polished marble floor as it was pushed back by his legs. ‘That’s all we came for so, I guess we’ll be going.’ He grabbed the contract back off Gornuk’s desk and made to leave. He’d already wrenched the door open and was walking back the way they’d come before Lyra stood from her chair.

‘Come on, Lyra!’ Sirius called from the hallway.

Lyra turned to follow him before pausing and turning back to face Gornuk. She’d been about to say thank you for the Goblin’s help but something about the way Gornuk now looked at her made her hesitate.

It was as if he was studying her . . . studying her with great interest, as if she was a treasure he hadn’t seen in a long time. It looked like he wanted to say something . . . and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what he’d say.

So, she cleared her throat and said, with as much casual air as she could muster under such an intense assessment, ‘Thank you, Gornuk, for your assistance. It has been most helpful, and most appreciated.’ With that, and another impatient shout from Sirius, Lyra ducked her head in a nod of thanks and left, trying to ignore the burning feeling of eyes on her as she walked from the room.

* * *

Sirius hated Goblins. They always looked like they were up to no good. They had that in common with House Elves he supposed. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who held that opinion.

The whole way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Lyra chastised him.

‘Why do you treat them like that?’ She snapped as soon as they’d descended the marble steps.

‘Like what?’

‘Like – like you’re better than them or something? That’s not truly how you think, is it?’

‘What? Of course it isn’t,’ he said quickly. ‘I just don’t trust them.’

Lyra groaned quietly beside him. ‘Sirius . . . Sirius!’ She reached out and took hold of his arm when he ignored her.

He couldn’t understand why she always wanted to make a big deal over things like this. They needed to know if the contract was still binding, so they’d gone to a Goblin. It was their job to deal with these things, it was what they lived for – it was _why_ they lived . . . he doubted whether he’d really hurt the Goblin’s feelings.

He tried to pull his arm free but Lyra’s grip was surprisingly strong. He whirled around to face her, his patience waning. And by the look of her pursed lips, so was hers.

‘Just . . .’ she started before hesitating, she looked around, as if checking that no one had heard her before lowering her voice and taking a step towards him. ‘Just think about what kind of person you want to be seen as. That’s all I’m saying. Or people might get the wrong impression of you.’ She let go of his wrist and turned her head, looking down the street. She seemed to focus on a certain point.

‘The only people whose opinions I value know what kind of person I am.’

Lyra didn’t look away from whatever it was that now held her attention. Her jaw was clenching and unclenching, like a pulse – a tell-tale sign that she wanted to say something but was unsure as to whether she should speak or keep quiet. A twitch of the corner of her mouth told Sirius that she’d made up her mind.

‘If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals,’ she said quietly before brushing past him and resuming the path back to the pub.

Sirius stared at the spot she’d been standing for a beat before turning around looking in the direction that had held her attention. He’d been trying to decipher what possible relevance her last statement had had – they’d been talking about Goblins and then she spurts out nonsense about equals and inferiors and such – but when he looked down the crowded alley way realisation hit him with sinking guilt.

Sirius watched the happy father and daughter, both laughing in obvious joy together as they looked at owls in a shop window, as he made his way down the alley. When he passed them and caught sight of his sister’s back, the guilt he’d felt passed as well, and was replaced with white hot rage.

The twins didn’t say another word to each other until they reached the pub and met up with Remus and James – Remus’ parents had gone shopping in muggle London.

They’d just finished eating when Sirius glanced towards the exit. There was still one more thing he needed to do before they all continued with the day. Once they were out in the Alley again, there’d be too much excitement and the risk of forgetting all together would become too great. This might be his last chance to slip away for a few moments unnoticed.

So he made the excuse of needing the bathroom and left the others to finish their lunch.

As he was nearing the bathroom however, he looked back over his shoulder across the pub to make sure the others weren’t watching. He then hunched his shoulders and started towards the front door instead. On his way, he grabbed a cloak that had been hanging on the back of a chair. Throwing the heavy thing around his shoulders, he flipped the collar up, hiding his face.

He didn’t look up until he reached Knockturn Alley, even then he made sure to keep his head low, never drawing back the flipped-up collar.

He passed all sorts of antique shops, grimy looking apothecaries and a shopfront with what looked like dragon eggs lined up in the front window. He looked from one to the other, not entirely sure what he was searching for . . . he doubted he’d know until he spotted it – whatever _it_ was.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone he passed, for even though he couldn’t see them, he would walk through a cloud of old sweat, piss and sour liquor every time he passed them by.

Something bright flashed in his vision, blinding him. Raising a hand to provide some cover he turned towards the spot the flash had come from. In the distance he saw a rusted old sign, swinging above the entrance to a narrow shop. The shopfront windows were so grime-ridden that trying to peer inside would have been futile. The sign was in a similar state of neglect. Whatever it had once said was no longer legible and it creaked loudly on rusted hinges in the strong draft pushing through the alley. Small patches of gold – gold that had caught the sliver of sunlight and caused Sirius’ temporary blindness – was the only hint of any former glory the shop may have once held.

Despite it’s appearance, however, Sirius knew that this might just have been what he’d been searching for.

_Finally_.

There was no doubt in his mind that by now the others would have noticed that he had yet to return from the bathroom. He wondered where they’d gone to look for him first. But, luckily for him, Diagon Alley was a big place. He had plenty of time.

He was five strides away from the shop when a sharp-nailed grip closed around his wrist. He tried jerking it away but the grip was iron-clad.

He followed the arm and was met with an extremely old looking woman. The potted skin on her hand and arm were nothing compared to her face. The woman could very well have been an Inferi, coming to haunt him – her skin was sunken and clung to her bones like wax dripping down a candlestick, barely holding on. She was smiling an awful smile, mouth full of yellow, rotting teeth on full display. Sirius wrinkled his nose without thinking, she wreaked of mothballs, excessive amounts of cheap perfume and something metallic he couldn’t quite place.

‘And what brings such a young and handsome man down this lane?’ She crowed up at him in a would-be silky sort of voice had it not been so gravely and fake. Looking around the alley, her wretched smile grew when she realised just how sparse this part of the alley was. ‘You’re not alone down here, surely?’

‘What’s it to you?’ Sirius sneered.

The woman raised a thick eyebrow, looking Sirius up and down slowly, her grip on his wrist never slackening. ‘Pity,’ she muttered. ‘I get the scabbard but not the blade, how disappointing.’ She looked at him again. ‘But what a fine scabbard it is.’

And then she was pulling him with a strength that momentarily stunned him. But he recovered quickly and dug his heels in, trying to yank his arm free.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman? Let go of me!’

But she acted like she didn’t hear him. Panic was well and truly setting in now as they neared closer and closer to a shadowed side street when a voice rang down the Alley towards them.

‘Sirius?!’

_Thank fuck._

‘Remus!’ Sirius called over his shoulder. ‘Remus, down here!’

As soon as he’d called out, the witch had released Sirius and fled impossibly quickly down the side street. Sirius whipped his wand out and had it pointing down into the shadows by the time Remus reached his side.

‘Sirius! What the hell do you think you’re doing down here?’ Remus hissed in his ear.

Not looking away from the shadowy street, Sirius lowered his wand. ‘Nothing,’ he turned away. ‘Nothing, let’s go.’

* * *

Sirius had made Remus promise not to tell anyone – _especially_ Lyra – that he’d found him in Knockturn Alley. Remus, being the good friend that he was, had agreed and had told James and Lyra that he’d found Sirius chatting up some Ravenclaw from Hogwarts back in the pub. Sirius was more than happy to play along.

‘You mean you actually went outside to go look for me?’ Sirius exclaimed. ‘Bit over the top, don’t you think?’ He avoided looking to Lyra as he felt her glowering at him. Instead he looked at James who merely smiled sheepishly and suggested that they go to Flourish and Blotts – there was a new book on Quidditch James had been talking about and Sirius was all too happy for a distraction.

It was in Flourish and Blotts that Sirius had finally found some time to be alone . . . It wasn’t his fault that the spot happened to be in the section of the bookshop that focussed on the darker aspects of magic. It was nothing like the information he could possibly hope to find in the dodgy shops of Knockturn Alley but it was something at least.

‘I thought you’d given up?’

Lyra’s voice made him start. She stood with her arms folded across her chest and a single eyebrow raised as she regarded him. He closed the book and stood from the stool he had been sitting in.

‘It can’t hurt to just have a look,’ he said, slotting the book back onto the shelf.

‘If you say so.’

Sirius opened his mouth when another voice cut through the silence.

‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the latest failures.’

Sirius rolled his eyes and turned to face the smug face of Rabastan Lestrange, leaning against a bookshelf at the end of the isle, legs casually crossed at the ankles. As per usual he was dressed in a set of very expensive looking, tailored black robes and his eyes shone with undisguised triumph as he glared at Sirius. Lestrange looked at the book Sirius had just replaced.

‘Bit late to be trying to get into your parents good graces isn’t it?’

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. ‘Hardly, I was actually trying to find out what horrible potion your mother must have swallowed in order for you to come out looking like that.’ Sirius couldn’t contain his smirk. ‘Or rather, what potion her mother drunk before _her_ birth.’

A soft hand closed around his wrist from behind him.

‘Sirius,’ Lyra warned softly.

Lestrange, who had turned positively livid, was about to bite back to Sirius’ comment but stopped when Lyra spoke, as if he had just noticed that she was there as well. Sirius was ready to pounce at the boy, fists ready, when Lestrange’s angry frown turned into a cool smirk.

‘Ah,’ he said, voice icily smooth, ‘if it isn’t Lovely Lyra.’

Sirius clenched his fist, Lyra’s grip turning firm around his wrist.

‘How nice it is to see you again.’ He pushed away from the bookshelf and strode towards the twins.

Sirius growled and went to match his step forward, but Lyra tugged him to stay where he was. He sneered as Lestrange came to stand in front of them. The infuriating smirk never wavered as he looked over Sirius’ shoulder to stare at Lyra.

‘I was worried that your brother’s latest act of foolishness might compromise our relationship.’

Lyra’s grip became even tighter.

‘It already has,’ Sirius sneered. ‘I wasn’t the only one disinherited.’

Lestrange tore his eyes away from Lyra and met Sirius’ glare, matching it with one just a fierce.

‘Your betrothal contract has been severed.’ Sirius felt his heart sour in triumph at the shock that flittered ever so quickly across Lestrange’s face. ‘We had it confirmed this morning.’

Unfortunately, the momentary shock wore off far too quick to savour and Lestrange was once again addressing Lyra.

‘What a life your brother has condemned you to,’ he purred to her. Sirius wanted nothing more than to hit Lestrange with the most powerful curse he knew, or better yet, the strongest right hook he could manage. Lestrange ignored Sirius, as if he wasn’t there at all. ‘Dragging you into mess after mess. That’s no way for a gentleman to act.’ Sirius bristled as Lestrange looked his sister up and down slowly, hungrily. ‘I’d be happy to show you how a normal man acts,’ he said, raising an eyebrow.

_That’s it!_ As Sirius stepped forward, the grip on his wrist was like solid iron, holding him back. Lestrange’s smirk grew, coiling up his cheek. But before Sirius had a chance to break free of her hold, Lyra was pulling him back into the main area of the shop.

From behind them, Sirius could hear Lestrange’s laughing voice, ‘I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, my dear, don’t be a stranger!’

When they caught up with the others, Lyra released Sirius’ wrist as if it were on fire. Neither twin spoke much for the rest of the day, if the others noticed, they didn’t say anything, to which both Sirius and Lyra were grateful.

* * *

Later that night, when Sirius was changing for bed something caught his eye. He raised his wrist to see the blackened outline of a hand print there. Sirius Black had a rather fitful night’s sleep that night . . . the night before his final term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally figured out how the formatting works! (I'm a bit technologically incompetent unfortunately). I hope it's easier to read and a more enjoyable story to you all now.
> 
> I get inspired by songs every now and then and I will let you know if there's any song in particular that suits a certain chapter (which will happen more in the later chapters of this story). Whilst writing this chapter I found myself listening to All the King's Horses by Karmina. It goes really well with the first scene of this chapter. Feel free to google it and let me know what you think :)
> 
> Enjoy!

## Chapter Six

_‘And if you were anyone else – if I didn’t know you – I may have been able to convince myself that everything you did, you did to protect me. But the only thing you care for more than family, is yourself . . . I was the consolation prize you never wanted, and the burden you never thought you’d have to bear.’_

* * *

 

She stood still amongst the chaos. From all around her there was noise and smoke. The world had become a muffled ring of deafening confusion.

The whistles of the conductor, of the train, the high-pitched shrieks of various animals blending together to create a loud, messy animal cry. The constant stream of chatter flowed throughout the platform and washed over her in steady waves, broken every so often by a particularly enthusiastic call of excitement of the cry of a younger child. Even from a short distance behind her, she could hear Mrs Potter fussing over her son, who was squirming away from her as she tried to pin his Head Boy badge to his jumper pocket.

But it was all white noise to her, she couldn’t pay attention to any of it. She didn’t notice the great plumes of smoke rolling like storm clouds over her. She didn’t take in the sight of the gleaming red steam engine that stood before her, even though she was looking right at it.

She didn’t hear, see or feel any of these things because all her efforts were being put into not turning to face the one thing she _was_ aware of.

Without even looking she knew exactly where they stood. The intensity of their glares made the side of her neck itch. Every muscle was tensed to stop her from fidgeting. She wasn’t even sure _who_ they were glaring at.

The Potter’s were still behind her – Mrs Potter was now trying to flatten James’ hair. Sirius was standing next to him in throws of laughter. It was just like Sirius not to notice what was happening.

But she’d noticed who was standing across the platform as soon as they’d arrived.

Someone moved to stand close by her side. If possible she stilled even further. That was until she felt fingers reach out and brush gently against her own. As soon as she felt the calloused skin next to hers she felt herself relax. But she dare not relax too much, appearances had to be maintained, especially with _them_ watching.

After a moment the steam engine let out a blaring whistle.

Carefully, Lyra turned and looked up finding that Remus was already watching her.

He was the epitome of calm. Concern lurked behind his eyes too, but he hid it well. He raised his eyebrows.

_Ready?_

Lyra breathed deeply, turned back to the train and nodded.

_Ready._

She never looked behind her to see her parent’s hard faces.

* * *

They always say that when one door closes another one opens. But Lyra had just entered an impossibly long, dark corridor. She couldn’t see the door at the end of it and the one behind her was starting to creak every-so-slowly shut. Sometimes she felt herself alone in the corridor, in the darkness that stretched before her. Then there were times like now. Sitting in the compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express as it chugged out of London with Sirius next to her, with Remus opposite her, and James and Peter next to him, she felt like maybe, just maybe she could take just a few steps towards the darkness, towards the door she hoped was there, waiting ajar with a glowing light behind it.

The train rattled, sending a jolt of pain straight to her middle. It took all her concentration not to wince.

She’d tried asking Mrs Potter exactly what curse it was that she’d been hit with. She got the distinct impression that Mrs Potter knew, or at least had strong suspicions, but she only ever pursed her lips and shook her head, saying that she’d never come across anything of this nature, but that she was confident that the salve would be enough to heal them fully. For some reason, this annoyed Lyra, she just wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that Mrs Potter was more than likely lying to her, or that she was simply not used to being vulnerable – to being hurt so obviously – in front of anyone, anyone except Sirius that is.

‘Well, I don’t know about you lot,’ said the boy himself, suddenly standing, ‘but I’m bored out of my mind.’ He slapped James over the shoulder, pushing him at the same time to stand as well. ‘Come on, surely there’s something to do on this train. Maybe we can find the trolley.’

James shook his head, half amused, half disbelieving. ‘You have some sort of disorder, you realise?’ He got to his feet. ‘Is it really that hard for you to stay still for longer than thirty minutes?’

‘Yes, apparently. Let’s go.’

Sirius was already out in the corridor, James not far behind him when he turned back. ‘Pete, tag along?’

 As was so often the case, Peter lit up with the prospect of being included. He’d become much better at hiding this, but Lyra could still clearly see the admiration, the surprise that brightened his eyes. He nodded eagerly and joined the others in the corridor.

‘Great,’ Sirius beamed. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Be careful!’ Lyra called, smirking at Remus when he gave her a questioning look.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I heard rumours late last year that some of the girls have been trying to brew a love potion to slip you.’ She looked from one boy to another. ‘All of you actually.’ She tried not to frown too much when she looked at Remus.

‘Do you really think I’m going to just accept whatever food is given to me? Do you _really_ think I’m that dim?’

Remus and Lyra didn’t even look at each other as they said ‘Yes!’ in perfect harmony.

James snorted with laughter. Peter looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to laugh along with James or mirror Sirius’ bitter eye roll.

‘Trust me,’ Sirius said, ignoring James completely. ‘There’s only one girl who scares me and I’m pretty sure she’s not about to slip me a love potion.’ And he was off down the corridor.

They all smirked after him. They knew who Sirius was speaking of, and Lyra had to agree with him. Of all the girls on the train right now, the one least likely to try to seduce her brother was Marlene McKinnon. And thank Merlin for it.

And then it was just Remus and Lyra alone in the compartment. Silence fell for a while, both of them seemingly content to simply watching the scenery go by. Or, rather, Lyra was content to watch the scenery – as she discovered when turning her head, Remus was seemingly content to watch her.

She couldn’t help the smile that grew as a result of his attentions.

‘What?’

Remus returned the smile. ‘I realised that I haven’t given you your Christmas present yet.’

It was true. As soon as she’d awoken James had practically thrown her present into her lap. She’d laughed at his child-like enthusiasm as he stood over her urging her to open it. She made sure to thank him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster as she unwrapped the beautiful journal he had gifted her.

‘Well,’ Lyra said. ‘Where is it, then?’ She searched his face, almost expecting him to glance at wherever he’d hidden it, but he just grinned, an edge of mischief to it.

‘You’ll have to wait a little longer for it, I’m afraid.’ At her look of open-mouthed disbelief, Remus shrugged. ‘What can I say? I’m all about the suspense.’

Lyra couldn’t help but release a chuckle as she shook her head. She made to turn back to the window when she noticed Remus’ expression. She knew he wanted to say something, and from the triangle forming between his eyebrows, she wasn’t sure she wanted to prod it out of him. She bit her lip when he started to open his mouth and had to restrain a sigh when the carriage door slid open.

‘Finally, I’ve found you!’ Mary MacDonald stood in the door way, her face washed with relief as she took in Remus. ‘Lily’s been looking for you, for some unearthly reason she wants to hold a Prefects meeting, Merlin knows why though, I mean we don’t have much of the school year left to organise . . . Oh, hi Lyra!’

Lyra blinked. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to Mary MacDonald. She was just so spirited . . . and she didn’t let anything get in the way of it either. A part of Lyra admired her for it, the greater part of her couldn’t help but feel exhausted just from hearing the girl speak.

‘Well, what are you waiting for? Lily’s probably having an aneurism waiting for us to get there, Merlin knows she’s already having a fit because James hasn’t shown up yet.’

Remus merely offered an amused half-smile as he got up. With one last look at Lyra he followed Mary out of the compartment. Lyra watched him leave, listening to Mary talk without breath until she was out of hearing range. Normally she would have allowed herself to smile after the girl, but now she simply sighed and rested her head against the window. Pressing a little harder against it as the train rattled again. She opened her eyes and leant back in her seat, watching the scenery pass by her.

At last, some peace and quiet. It was the first time she had been truly alone in a week. Even when she was sleeping in the Potter’s guest bedroom, she knew that one of James’ parents would check in on her throughout the night. But now, with James and Remus in the Prefects carriage, and Sirius and Peter off Merlin knows where, she finally had a moment with nothing but the tell-tale signs of the clicking train tracks underfoot to comfort her.

Shunned, that’s what she was now . . . her and Sirius . . . shunned from a society that had never truly wanted either of them in the first place. Needed, perhaps. Wanted, never. And perhaps they were better off without that world, those people, but where were they now?

They were grey, stuck somewhere between light and darkness, but she would allow herself to be smothered by the light and she would be glad for it.

‘There you are!’

Lyra only noticed how tight her forehead was from her frowning when she looked away from the window. But upon seeing Marlene, followed by Dorcas Meadows, coming into the compartment, Lyra let out a smile.

‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere!’ Marlene fell somewhat lazily into the seat opposite Lyra.

Lyra stood to greet them both. She hadn’t seen them since before Christmas. She knew that Marlene had visited the Potter’s at least once whilst she was there – Sirius had grumbled about her attempting a house invasion, whatever that had meant – but Lyra hadn’t been conscious at the time.

Dorcas threw her arms around Lyra and squeezed as tightly as she dared. This caution was not missed by Lyra.

She looked over Dorcas’ shoulder to Marlene.

‘So, I may have told her.’

Lyra lifted her eyebrows at Marlene, Dorcas still not breaking the hug.

‘Everything.’ Marlene answered the unasked question with ease.

Lyra rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to her current situation.

‘Dorcas,’ she mumbled. ‘Dorcas, it’s fine . . . I’m fine, really.’ Lyra patted Dorcas’ shoulder and after a moment or two, Dorcas peeled herself away from her friend. Lyra sat back down in her seat next to the window exchanging a look with Marlene. Dorcas, however, remained standing.

‘Why didn’t you write me?’ Dorcas’ voice shook a little. ‘Why did I have to find everything out from _her_?’ Dorcas pointed to Marlene, her eyes never leaving Lyra’s.

Marlene scoffed. ‘And what, may I ask, is so affronting about receiving information from me?’

Dorcas shot her a withering look. The two had been at odds ever since the start of the term. Lyra still wasn’t entirely sure as to why that was, but she wasn’t about to get in the middle of it.

‘I’m sorry Dorcas,’ Lyra interjected. ‘I wanted to write you, but Mr and Mrs Potter didn’t want me sending _any_ mail out. Sirius couldn’t send mail out either.’

‘Yeah well all Sirius’ friends knew where he was, didn’t they?’ She plonked down in the space next to Marlene.

Lyra could only apologise again before silence fell, interrupted only by the sound of the train moving along the tracks. Lyra resumed watching the scenery.

‘So you’re really okay, then?’ Came a small voice.

Lyra looked across to see Dorcas staring at her – a Healer in the making. She offered her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

‘I really am.’ There was something hidden in those words, some deeper feeling that Lyra didn’t intend on expressing, she wasn’t even sure if she meant it. But it seemed to be enough for Dorcas, whose face split into a broad grin as she launched into telling the girls everything that had happened to her over the holidays.

‘And then we visited my great-aunt in Greece! I’d not met her before but she seemed thrilled to have such a ‘special young lady’ in the family.’ Dorcas said the last part in a thick Greek accent, her giggling made Lyra chuckle where Marlene rolled her eyes, a small smile toying around her mouth.

Dorcas was a muggle-born and she seemed to have relatives scattered all over the world. Every chance her and her parents got, they would visit whoever was free at the time. She always came back to Hogwarts with the most exciting stories.

At least someone had had a pleasant Christmas.

Dorcas had just started telling the girls about her distant cousin who she’d been introduced to for the first time when the compartment door slid open with a thud.

‘And you tell _him_ that I don’t give a horse’s arse how high up in the ministry his father is,’ Sirius yelled to someone they couldn’t see further down the corridor, ‘if he wants to sort this out like a real man instead of cowering behind you lot, he knows where to find me!’ He turned with a grin to find himself facing a compartment full of bewildered looking girls.

Well Dorcas was bewildered, she had stopped talking as soon as she saw that it was Sirius who had opened the door. Her face flushed when Sirius looked over her briefly.

‘Ladies,’ Sirius’ grin grew as he tilted his head, taking the seat next to his sister. Lyra rolled her eyes as he sat, looking away from him. Her glare deepened as she saw the sly grin on Marlene’s face, her eyes mischievous as she regarded Sirius.

‘And who were you talking to then?’

Sirius looked to Marlene and looked conflicted for a moment before saying, with an air of triumph, ‘Oh, no one you should be too worried about.’ He winked at Dorcas whose flush deepened a shade. His grin vanished however as he looked next to him and was met with Lyra’s icy flat stare. ‘What?’

She shook her head and looked out to the hills that were quickly becoming darker and more jagged as the train flew past them. She could still feel Sirius’s eyes on her but her jaw was set firmly.

After a minute or two Marlene stood. ‘Let’s go Dee, I’m starving, that witch must be somewhere nearby.’

Dorcas, after casting more than a few unsure looks around the compartment, got up and followed Marlene out in search for the Trolley Lady.

The silence was almost palpable, but Lyra was determined. If she weren’t so mad, she would have smirked when she felt the seat shift and saw Sirius sit down across from her.

‘So are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or am I going to finally have a chance to see if I can do Legilimency?’

Lyra continued to stare out at the hills, which had now turned to shades of black and brown rather than the green it had been not so long ago.

‘Lyra.’

‘I just!’ The next words died in her mouth when she looked at him. Despite his tone, he was frowning intently at her. ‘I just don’t think you should be picking fights is all,’ she mumbled, picking at the sleeves of her jumper.

‘I wasn’t picking a fight!’ Sirius said, affronted. Sighing, he leant back into the seat, running a hand roughly through his hair. ‘It’s not my fault half this school is full of absolute pricks.’

‘Will you stop doing that!’

‘Doing what?’

‘Acting like everything is a joke! It’s not Sirius!’ Sirius’ face fell. ‘Things have changed.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ Sirius stood up so quickly that Lyra flinched. ‘After everything that’s happened over the last few weeks, Lyra, trust me, I know.’

He stood, watching her, she had closed her eyes, her jaw set once more. He sat with a huff, realising that she was done talking.

Once she heard him sit down again, Lyra opened her eyes, looking at the floor by her brother’s feet.

‘Look,’ Sirius said, leaning forward. ‘I know we never really finished talking about what happened. But if you ever want to . . .’

‘Do you?’ She said quickly, finally meeting his hardened look. He held it for a moment before sighing and looking out the window, not really seeing anything. 

Until they were re-joined by the girls, and then later by James, Remus, Peter and Lily, the twins sat in silence, both seemingly intent on ignoring the other.

When the others arrived Sirius and Lyra immersed themselves in their own separate friendship groups. They ignored the pointed looks the others cast when they realised that Sirius and Lyra were indeed talking to everyone else but each other.

* * *

Sirius took a seat across from Remus and Lyra at the Gryffindor table, making sure he had his back facing the Slytherins. He couldn’t help but scowl at Lyra as he heard a burst of snide laughter come from behind him.

Why did she always have to do this? Over think everything. Part of him knew that she was just being cautious . . . it was dangerous for her not to be. But the Slytherins deserved whatever he dished out to them.

He tried to ignore the cackling laughter behind him by focussing on what was going on around him. Something he immediately regretted for he was met with a most unpleasant sight.

‘Urgh, do you two have to do that in public? You’re making the food go bad.’

James and Lily pulled away from each other, both smirking over at him.

‘Oh, are we making you uncomfortable, Sirius?’ James asked, not sounding genuine in the slightest. He turned to Lily. ‘What d’you reckon?’ He asked her, ‘Should we consider this payback?

Lily snorted. ‘I reckon we’d have to do a lot more for us to be even, don’t you?’

James and Peter burst out laughing. Sirius added his own sarcastic chuckle to the mix.

But as he sat laughing with James and Peter he noticed that the two across the table were unusually quiet.

Remus was smirking along with everything that was being said but it was clear that his attention was divided.

Lyra – her friends completely ignored by her – was inspecting the table, the silverware, the goblets, but her eyes would flicker to somewhere across the room every now and then, the rims of silver that encircled her pupil swirling slightly. She would hastily return to inspecting the goods on the table after a few seconds.

Sirius turned slightly in his seat.

There, laughing amongst a group of his housemates, sat Regulus. Sirius could’ve growled, in fact he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t.

The boy had never once cared for them or anything that happened to them. They were better off without him, without their whole family. He made that clear when he tried to talk Sirius out of leaving that day. Sirius spun back around to tell this to Lyra but found that he was too late.

Remus had leaned in closer to her, offering her a small smile.

‘You okay?’

Lyra paused, seeming slightly stunned as if she had thought that she and Regulus were the only two people in the Hall. She quickly blinked away her shock.

‘Yeah . . . yeah, I’m fine.’ She quickly turned away from Remus and the others, apparently suddenly very interested in whatever the other girls were talking about.

As the feast ended and everyone started to make their way back to their Common Rooms, Sirius watched his brother walk out of the Great Hall. Regulus seemed much more like a young boy than Sirius had ever known him to be.

_Things have changed._

* * *

The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet but for the last crackles of the dying fire. Everyone had long since gone up to their dormitories, eager to sleep the night away in hopes that the first day of classes would somehow arrive just that bit earlier. Everyone, that is, but for a black-haired, silver eyed girl who lay dozing on the plush lounge in front of the fire.

And as the embers of the fire sparked and sizzled, the girl let out a small moan, tossing, her features tightening.

_‘What did you say to me?’_

_Never before had Lyra seen her father so angry. He seemed to tower over everything and everyone in the small room, taking up every facet of it. His wand was held tightly by his side, his knuckles white, skin taught._

_Lyra silently pleaded with Sirius to just, for once, keep his mouth shut, to not rise to the bait. Her throat constricted painfully when Sirius stepped forward._

_‘You heard me you crazed-’_

_With a deep growl, Orion Black seized Sirius shirt collar._

_‘No!’ Lyra tried to step in between the two. She felt the tips of her fingers burn almost painfully but she balled them into fists, willing the sensation to retreat back within herself._

_Orion hit her across her cheek with the back of his closed fist, she hit the end of her bed frame around the ribs and landed on the wooded floor with a gasp. Orion pulled his son towards the landing outside without so much as a backwards glance at his daughter who now lay bleeding behind him._

_Lyra scrambled to her feet as Sirius started spitting curses at his father, swearing his rage at the pain done to his sister. Lyra took another desperate step towards him, holding her hands out for him when she was caught from behind._

_‘Sirius!’_

_Her mother’s strong grip around her middle had Lyra reeling backwards from Sirius’ panicked face._

_And then Sirius was calling out her name just as desperately as she was calling his._

_‘You’ve had this coming for a long time, boy!’ Orion snarled as he finally managed to get to Lyra’s bedroom door._

_With one more almighty tug, Lyra momentarily broke free of her mother’s hold. She only just managed to grab hold of Sirius’s hand for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough._

_The burning sensation from before came back with a vengeance and rolled from her fingertips in warm, powerful waves into Sirius’ own hand._

_He stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open as he shook his head ever so slightly at what she had just done for him. In return she managed to release a very watery, very bloody smile that she hoped passed as a reassuring one._

_‘No! Lyra!’_

_And then they were separated again, and Sirius was pulled, screaming Lyra’s name, from her room by their father whilst Lyra, sobbing, calling out to her brother, struggling in the vice-like grip of their mother. Then she felt the tip of a wand press deep into the side of her neck, she stopped struggling at once._

A door slammed shut, someone other than Sirius was calling out to her and her eyes flew open, she jumped from the lounge but two strong, rough hands gently stopped her.

‘Woah!’

And then Remus was frowning down at her. They were in an empty Gryffindor Common Room, not her bedroom at Grimmauld Place, and it was Remus, not her parents, not Sirius, who knelt before her.

With a shaky breath, she flung herself into his arms and he embraced her just as strongly. When she pulled back she found him smiling softly, but there was undiluted worry in his eyes.

She stared at him, looking over every inch of his face, from the lightly coloured hair, to the soft eyes that were edged with amber, to every scar that marred his skin. She leaned into him and their lips met.

As she melted into him, into his touch and scent and skin she felt lighter than she had in weeks. In his arms, she realised where she was and who she was there with.

When they finally pulled away from one another Remus was holding something . . . something that caught the light of the fire and glinted through the darkness.

‘Remus, it’s beautiful!’ Lyra breathed as she beheld the silver ring in his hands.

He smiled lightly as he slid it onto her finger. It was, in all respects, simple: two thin bands of gleaming silver weaved in and out and over the top of one another – there was no beginning and no end to it and it shone warmth in the firelight.

‘Welcome home, Lyra,’ came Remus’ voice, it too bathed in warmth.

* * *

A single envelope waited for him on his bed when he trudged into his dormitory that night. After making sure no one had followed him into the room and that he was indeed alone, he opened it and read.

_I have discussed your plan to my business partners. They agree with it’s potential and have agreed that if their chosen strategy fails then your plan may be called upon._

_They were impressed by your approach in this venture._

_Be sure not to disappoint them._

_It’s almost time._

There was no name at the bottom, no address on the envelope, but Regulus knew who had sent it.

As he tossed the letter into the fire he watched it curling in on itself, being pushed inwards by the flames surrounding it. He watched as the cream of the parchment became dark, became frayed and eventually, became nothing.

Even after it had become one with that which had destroyed it, after it had become completely indistinguishable from the blaze, Regulus kept watching.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left Kudos! Love you all!!

## Chapter Seven

_She had been so terribly wrong. There was something worse than the sound of Regulus’ screams . . . so much worse._

* * *

 

Lyra came out of the bathroom, jar of pink salve in her hands. It was working, for the most part. Her stomach was still ghastly, thick dirty red scars standing up from her skin that prickled uncomfortably. She had started to resent her school uniform as the cotton would rub constantly against her wounds, making them itch and throb.

She’d taken to changing in the bathroom, the others didn’t need to worry over her condition. She’d had enough worrying glances and words of comfort over the last week to last her a lifetime. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, ready to leave for breakfast, when Lily noticed her.

‘Lyra?’

Lyra let go of the door handle after a quick, soft sigh through her nose. Turning she found Lily standing in the middle of the room – the empty room, other than themselves. Lyra groaned internally as she forced a polite, questioning smile on her mouth.

Lily’s nostrils were flaring and she was absentmindedly playing with the cuff of her shirt. Lyra’s curiosity was suddenly sparked. But she still waited for Lily to speak. Assumptions lead only to trouble.

‘I was wondering if you’d like to walk down to breakfast together?’

 _Not really_. Lyra nodded. ‘Sure.’

The two girls walked in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Despite being in the same year and house and having shared a room for the past six and a half years, Lily and Lyra had only started to get to know one another since the beginning of this year. Lyra supposed that their dormitory had always been somewhat split. Dorcas and she were on friendly terms with everyone but it was common knowledge, despite it never being commented on, that Lily and Marlene weren’t really that keen on each other. The two were just too different – Lily valued reliability and structures whereas those were two things that made the top of Marlene’s list to scoff at. This left Dorcas, Mary and Lyra to play peacemaker, with Dorcas entertaining Lily, Mary playing go between with the lot of them, that left Lyra to deal with Marlene’s blunt sense of humour – not an altogether horrible option, seeing as the alternative was having Lily and Marlene engaging in some pretty lengthy and heated debates over the merits of school.

They were almost at the Great Hall – the growing sound of chatter drifting towards them –  when Lily spoke.

‘I heard about what happened over Christmas,’ she said in a rush. ‘I’m really sorry.’

To say that Lyra was surprised was only half true. Remus had mentioned his suspicions that James may have written her shortly after the twins arrived at the Potters.

‘I didn’t know what you two were going through. If I had . . .’

 _You might have been a tad nicer?_ Lyra shook her head, now was not the time to start acting like Sirius.

‘Lily, it’s okay . . . Really,’ she added, seeing the unsure look on Lily’s face.

‘Are you – I mean, you’re alright now, though?’ Lily said after another moment’s silence.

Lyra tried to appear as if she hadn’t noticed how the Head Girl’s gaze had flickered to her stomach.

‘I am.’ _For the most part._

Lily smile reeked of forced understanding. ‘Well if you ever want anyone to talk to . . .’

Lyra’s stomach twisted for the second time that morning. ‘Uh, thanks Lily.’

When they reached the Great Hall, Lyra immediately scanned the length of the Gryffindor table. She spotted Marlene, Dorcas and Mary about a quarter of the way down. Dorcas and Marlene seemed to be going about things normally, buttering their toasts , reading the paper. And if it weren’t for Mary, sitting between the two, looking from one to the other as if they were about to start yelling, Lyra might have allowed herself to relax. But now it was clear the neither girl was talking, or even looking at each other. Actually, they rather seemed to be ignoring one another completely.

Mary looked away from the two long enough to see Lily and Lyra approaching. Her shoulders visibly sagged.

Lyra sat across from Marlene who simply nodded at her in acknowledgement. Dorcas beamed at her which only stoked Lyra’s confusion. She’d been expecting a polite smile, maybe a cheerful ‘good morning’, but Dorcas’ smile was almost too wide, and slightly . . . tight, to have been considered normal.

_Probably still worried about what happened to me . . . Probably._

But like so many things that happened lately, Lyra couldn’t summon the strength to care, let alone to try and understand whatever was going on. So, she just returned the smile as best she could, picked up a spare paper sitting in the middle of the table and started to read, absentmindedly reaching for some toast and trying to ignore how light her stomach felt.

‘So, what do you think _really_ happened to Samps?’ Dorcas said, finally deciding to be the one to break the heavy tension.

‘Isn’t is obvious? He retired . . . I swear we all agreed on this months ago.’

‘Oh come off it, he wasn’t even that old. And besides, no one asked for _your_ opinion, Marlene!’

‘You asked a question, I answered. I’m not sure how you were raised but I’ve always been under the impression that that’s how the whole socialising thing is supposed to work.’

‘I happened to be asking the others.’

‘They’re not even listening to you!’

‘McKinnon!’ Lily warned, all of them ignoring Mary who just sat spluttering indignantly that she was listening.

From behind that day’s copy of The Daily Prophet, Lyra heaved a silent sigh as she tried to focus on the article rather than the two girls opposite her.

It might have been a stretch to say that Marlene and Dorcas were best friends, but they usually got on better than this – and on the first day back no less. They must have talked their way into an argument last night because they’d at least been civil to each other on the train.

And they were quickly beginning to give Lyra a headache.

Her eyes narrowed however as she found that she kept looking up to the Head Table as well.

The Head Table was almost empty. The first day back must have had most of the Professor’s busy preparing their first lessons, no doubt wanting to remind their students that Christmas was now well and truly behind them . . . and end of year exams, OWLS and NEWTS stood before them. But one of the few who had decided that breakfast was just as important was Professor Antone, the young Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. He was eating quietly by himself, looking up every now and then, uninterestedly inspecting the students before him.

The students who had noticed him, however, were very interested – especially those of the female persuasion. Lyra supposed that such a youthful Professor would have that affect though, especially when the old Defence Professor was so withered he stood in a permanent hunch.

There had been a lot of speculation about Antone’s age. The agreement had been made that he couldn’t have been out of school for very long, ten years at the most. Although where he went to school was a different matter entirely. He was rather lean and tanned. His pale eyes were made even brighter, like blue marble gleaming from its place in the earth.

Lyra tried not to look directly at him as she studied him, she didn’t know how she’d react to being caught spying. If it weren’t for the fact that he unnerved her, Lyra knew that she’d throw in her lot with the rest of the females in the school and admit how attractive he was.

‘ _Besides, Dorcas,_ everyone knows the only opinion of yours that truly matters are those about se-’

Lyra silently groaned, closing her eyes as the girl’s bickering became louder. She looked back at the paper, trying to read the rest of the article whose subject matter she could no longer remember.

‘Just because _you_ can’t get any, McKinnon!’

Lyra was just about to throw the paper down and join Lily in telling them to shut up when something suddenly stopped her – several things in fact.

Feeling the side of her face warm a little she looked to her right, her eyes going straight back to the Head Table where Professor Antone still sat, not even hiding the fact that he was looking right at her. She was thankful for an excuse to look away as someone knocked into her as they sat down beside her.

‘Sorry, Lyra,’ James said reaching for the orange juice.

Lyra was about to check the Head Table again just as the sound of hundreds of wings came from above. She didn’t bother looking for her owl, knowing that Aries had arrived at Hogwarts weeks before she had. She jumped a little when a letter was dropped in front of her, looking up just in time to see Aries flying away in a hurry.

Everyone sitting around her stopped, their own letters falling unnoticed beside them. Lyra felt sick as she looked down and saw the familiar cursive. She glanced up at Sirius and felt both relieved and a little frightened to note that he had no letter in front of him.

When she touched it, pulling it towards her, she did so with such caution the others couldn’t help but feel nervous, it was like they were all waiting for it to explode. Lyra turned it over and was about to rip through the seal when,

‘Wait!’ Sirius said suddenly.

Lyra looked at him for a moment nodding her reassurance to him, which he returned with just a touch of hesitation, his wide eyes moving back to the letter, watching intently as she tore it open in one fluid motion.

There was a collective sigh when nothing happened. But then she started reading . . . she could feel the colour drain from her face. She was vaguely aware that the parchment had started to shiver as the tips of her fingers grew numb. She wasn’t sure she was breathing as she held the letter out for Sirius to take without thinking. He snatched it from her trembling fingers and his face contorted in rage as his eyes flew across the parchment.

‘That fucking cow!’ Sirius spluttered profanities and suddenly started looking wildly about the Hall, blind to everything but what he sought. His eyes suddenly narrowed and he stood abruptly, stalking off.

‘Sirius!?’ Lily called after him. She looked back to Lyra who was staring blankly at the table, her eyelid attempting a blink every few seconds. Lily looked up, about to ask what the hell was going on but James spoke, the letter in his hands now.

‘It’s their mother,’ James said, reading the letter as quickly as he could. ‘She’s,’ he paused, glancing at the others. ‘She’s begging for Lyra’s forgiveness.’ He returned to the letter. ‘She says that if Lyra reconciles with them now then all “past transgressions” will be forgotten. She vows that Lyra will be protected if she accepts their offer.’ He paused again, unsuccessfully holding back a frustrated snort. ‘She also says that none of these terms apply to Sirius, that his actions can’t be forgiven so easily.’

 The others, who had fallen into a disbelieving stupor, all flinched and jumped when loud voices erupted from the next table.

‘To hell with you, you insufferable little git!’

Sirius was standing across the table from Regulus, who was also standing. And every single person in the Great Hall at that moment realised that if it hadn’t been for the table separating them, the two brothers would have already come to blows.

To his credit, Regulus was standing straight backed and proud, his expression of defiance firmly set. The feathering of his jaw was the only tell-tale sign of nervousness, and he had every right to be nervous. Everyone knew that, for all his joking and levity, Sirius Black was terrifying and had the potential to be extremely dangerous when pushed, all one had to do was see his mock duels in Defence Against the Dark Arts and the way his eyes flashed when he came across of group of Slytherins to know that.

The teachers who were still eating breakfast up at the Head Table were quick to their feet, Professor McGonagall taking the lead towards the boys.

Sirius was shaking as he whipped out his wand, everyone in the hall gasped, expecting Sirius to aim at his brother, but instead, Sirius pointed it towards the Gryffindor table. Mrs Black’s letter flew from James’ hand and soared to Sirius’ waiting fist.

Sirius leant across the table, thrusting the crumpled letter into Regulus’ chest, the impact of Sirius’ clenched fist hitting his brother squarely in the chest sounded a loud _thunk_ throughout the Hall.

‘You tell that _loathsome_ old slag,’ Sirius shouted, his voice trembling from fury, ‘that the only thing _her daughter_ needs to be protected from is _them_! And if they _ever_ come near her or me again, I will gladly repay them for their past kindness!’ And with that, Sirius turned to his right, extended his arms wide in a mock bow and smiled at McGonagall who had reached him at last. ‘Minnie!’ Sirius called, with apparently no hint of his previous outburst. ‘After you,’ he said, bowing deeper still and ushering her past him, as soon as she passed, Sirius’ ferocious glare returned and he stalked behind the enraged Professor from the Hall.

While Sirius followed McGonagall, Professor Galile, the Divination teacher, was quickly escorting Regulus from the Hall.

Those sitting at the Gryffindor table all slowly turned, silent, to Lyra. She was frowning at the spot her brothers had stood moments before, she shook slightly as James wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. He rubbed her arm gently, quietly telling her that it was going to be alright, but his voice was cut off by another.

‘Miss Black.’

Professor Flitwick stood behind them, shuffling his feet slightly as he regarded the girl.

‘I’m terribly sorry, Miss Black, but I am going to have to ask you to follow me.’

Lyra nodded her head numbly and rose from the table.

As she followed the little Professor, Lyra felt the back of her neck heat up. She looked behind her as she exited the Hall to find Professor Antone looking right back at her, an expression she was afraid to interpret inflaming his eyes. 

So focussed was she on Antone, she didn’t notice Rabastan Lestrange looking at her with a terrifying cold grin curling around his face.

* * *

Sirius was still shaking as he pushed himself further into the seat in Professor McGonagall’s office. The thought of his brother, no doubt sitting smugly in the chair next to him was more than enough to fuel his anger.

How dare they think that they could worm their way back into Lyra’s life. After everything they’d done to her, after they tried to kill her! It was far, far too late for that – even if it was a possibility – which of course it wasn’t, it was absurd, it was infuriating! His Mother had disinherited them . . . both of them. Something like that couldn’t just be undone with a frivolous, shallow letter. Words weren’t enough to wash away so much blood . . . blood that Regulus saw . . . he was just as guilty as those who caused it to spill in the first place.

He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hurt anyone more in his life . . .

The door to the office opened, then closed. Lyra appeared in his periphery and took the seat beside him. He didn’t look at her, instead he ground his teeth, not letting his eyes stray from Professor McGonagall who, at the present moment, looked downright murderous.

‘Now I realise that certain events have occurred over the most recent holidays that have caused a rift to form between the three of you,’ she said, her nostrils flaring, ‘but that does not give you any excuse to begin rioting within the halls of this school! As students of Hogwarts it is expected that you act in a manner befitting both your age and your education.’

While her attention had previously been separated between the three of them, McGonagall now focussed solely on the two boys. ‘If I hear of another outburst, of any un-pleasantries of any kind, no matter how small or discreet, that take place between any of you, you will face much more serious consequences than the ones you are facing right now.’ She sighed and leant back in her chair. ‘You will all be receiving separate detentions – Mr Black,’ she said, looking this time to Regulus, ‘I will talk to Professor Slughorn who will inform you of the details – and I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of Professor Dumbledore wanting to talk to you all as well in the coming days.’

Sirius shot from his chair. ‘But Lyra-!’

McGonagall rose with speed Sirius would never have expected to see from her, she slammed her open palms on the table top. ‘Enough, Mr Black!’

Sirius took half a step back.

‘You and Mr Black are free to go, you will both go straight to your first lessons and if I hear that you have made even the slightest detour than you will be back here explaining yourself to the Headmaster.’

Sirius opened his mouth again.

‘I wish to speak to Miss Black privately.’ Her tone was final and Sirius knew it. He swept from the room, knuckles deathly white.

Regulus rose slowly from his chair. He didn’t acknowledge anyone as he left. It was only after she had heard the door close that Lyra noticed that Regulus had placed something on McGonagall’s table, a crumpled piece of parchment, fine cursive writing peeking through.

McGonagall retook her seat with a long, drawn out, tired sigh. She looked at Lyra for a moment, taking in the paleness of her skin, the deep crease of her forehead.

‘The Potter’s contacted us throughout the holidays, Miss Black,’ she said, her voice soft now that they were alone. ‘We are aware of how you came to spend the last few days with them but as of yet are unaware of the why.’

She waited for a response from Lyra, maybe she was hoping for an explanation, but none ever came. Lyra wasn’t about to be bullied into talking about things that were her business. After a moment McGonagall pursed her lips and continued.

‘You will be reporting to Professor Dumbledore for your detention.’

Lyra’s head shot up at this, McGonagall raised her hands.

‘Not for punishment, my dear, but merely for a discussion. If you wish you may simply spend the time in silence. If I know the Headmaster, he will not push you for information, but it could be beneficial for you to offer it. If there is one person who can help you, Miss Black, it is Albus Dumbledore.’ She waited again. ‘Do you understand?’

Lyra’s brain was telling her that she was nodding, yet she couldn’t feel it, she was struggling to feel anything but the burning in her fingertips.

‘Very well,’ McGonagall said, ‘you are free to leave. Straight to your first lesson, if you please,’ she warned as Lyra rose.

Lyra neither noticed nor cared if McGonagall saw what she did next.

As she left the office, she finally felt something. She felt a single tear trail down her cheek, along with the coarseness of the crumpled piece of parchment in her fist.

When she was finally free of the office, of prying eyes, when she had reached the security of an empty corridor, she let the flood gates in her fingers open and she did not have to look down to know that the tips of her fingers were glowing. Still walking, she let go of the letter and it rose to float in front of her face, it uncurled before her eyes and with a mere twitch of her fingers that were still by her side, the letter burst into flames.

The last thing Lyra read were the words _come home, my daughter._ She flexed her hands when there was nothing left and made her way to the fifth floor.

As she cleared the corridor a figure stepped out from behind a statue. Their eyes trailed after her, as if they could see through the stone walls to where she walked. The figure’s lips curled, their eyes hungry as they slunk back down the corridor in the opposite direction. 


	8. Chapter 8

## Chapter Eight

_‘Whatever it is you came to say, I wish you’d just say it.’ Every bone in her body ached, just the thought of speaking was exhausting. She just wanted to sleep, to forget, and she couldn’t do any of that with Sirius forcing her to relive it all._

_That day at Hogwarts, with the boggart . . . you saw something else, didn’t you?’_

_Lyra needed to forget . . . she needed it to stop._

_'I know you did, Lyra, because I saw it too . . . It’s never going to happen.’_

_Lyra sighed and pushed away from the fence, ignoring the fact that every muscle in her body groaned in protest. ‘It already has.’_

* * *

 

As instructed, Sirius went straight to his first lesson and arrived at the fifth-floor corridor classroom well before anyone else had even left breakfast. He threw himself into a chair to the side of the room and let a calm fury overwhelm him as he sat still and silent.

The contents of the letter kept flashing through his mind. He heard his mother’s simpering, false voice, _terribly worried . . . hasn’t been the same without you . . . please come home._ Sirius ground his teeth. He knew he should feel bad about causing such a scene in front of so many people, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

If he ever saw his parents again, he wouldn’t even try to hold back his rage, and he had no doubt that he’d enjoy it, too.

So caught up in trying to ignore the echoes of his mother’s voice, Sirius jumped slightly as the classroom’s doors banged opened. Lyra entered and as she did, something suddenly changed.

With the castle being firmly entrenched in winter, the air throughout the castle was constantly cold and thin. Gloves and scarves were now classed as necessary parts of the uniform.

Sirius watched Lyra move through the room. As he did so, however, he noticed a change. The air was quickly growing heavier . . . hotter somehow, no, not hotter, it was more than hot . . . it sizzled.

Lyra’s face was stone-like, she took a seat two rows behind Sirius on the opposite side of the room. She couldn’t have been further away.

She didn’t look at him, didn’t even attempt to acknowledge him. Indeed, Sirius was sure Lyra had not even noticed that he was there at all. She sat, her hands gripped together as she stared at the blackboard at the front of the room.

Sirius watched his normally calm sister frown in thought, a muscle in her jaw feathering every so often, but the more he watched, the more uncomfortable he became. He had started absentmindedly scratching his arm. He’d only just noticed how red his skin had become when the itch turned suddenly painful.  He tried not to panic but that became all the more difficult when Lyra unclasped her hands and ran them through her hair, pulling them back to reveal glowing fingertips.

‘Lyra!’

Lyra whipped around to face him, eyes wide, confirming Sirius’ suspicions about her not realising there was anyone else in the room. Quickly, after giving her brother a once over, she blinked. And a rush of cool air swept through the room, instantly easing Sirius’ pain.

Lyra’s eyelids stuttered before she looked back to the front of the room. ‘Sorry.’

‘Lyra, look.’

But the sound of growing chatter stopped Sirius and he too twisted in his seat to face the front.

* * *

It was like having your head underwater. She could see everything around her, yet the images were distorted, they seemed to ripple and it was hard to focus, to gain any sort of clarity. She heard voices around her, but they were muffled, she couldn’t make out anything but their tone.

But she wasn’t allowed to let all of that simply wash over her, she couldn’t simply close her eyes, breathe in deeply and sink into blissful unawareness and tranquil confusion. Because she _was_ aware of a handful of facts that pulled on her shoulders, away from the promise of peaceful obliviousness.

She knew that she already had detention. She knew that she hadn’t been able to finish any of her Christmas homework and was now dreadfully, sickeningly behind. She knew that she was feeling awful for not remembering to get presents for anyone. She knew that she would not be allowed to merely sit quietly in Dumbledore’s office while the old Professor went about the daily routines involved in running a boarding school full of underage witches and wizards. The Headmaster was suspicious enough of her already, Lyra doubted that he’d pass up such an easy opportunity to interrogate her.

But the one thing Lyra knew above all else was that she would never be going back to the place she had grown up in ever again.

She flexed her fingers as they gently throbbed. Students began rushing into the class and taking their seats.

Hiding her hands under the table, she made a point not to look up. The feeling of eyes she couldn’t see was enough to deter her from lifting her gaze to try and meet them.

No, even if she had wanted to, Sirius would never allow her to return to Grimmauld Place. _Did she want to?_ Of course didn’t, she couldn’t after what they’d done to her, to Sirius.

Lyra stretched her fingers and glanced discreetly down at them. The throbbing had subsided. Plain, slightly red skin peered back up at her. It looked as if she’d just washed her hands rather thoroughly.

A sharp cough sounded through the room. There was something about it, a sharp edge to it that made everyone pause. Lyra looked up to see Professor Antone standing at the front of the room. His cold, detached eyes skimmed the tops of the students.

Lyra hoped that she was imagining the way the Professors eyes paused almost unperceivably on her.

She hadn’t known the class she was walking into after she’d come from McGonagall’s office. Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind the part that was still dutifully focussed on school and study had steered her to the fifth floor. Now with a sharp ache developing in her head, she realised just what her first class was.

Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . Her least favourite subject.

And no, it wasn’t because her wand work was normally more on the pathetic side of awful –  although that was always embarrassing enough to deter her from any subject – but Defence Against the Dark arts always ran the risk of presenting rather unwelcome surprises . . . Like a lesson they had a couple of months into the term – a lesson she didn’t think she would ever soon forget.

_As soon as she walked in to the classroom she knew she wasn’t going to like whatever it was that Antone had planned. She’d had a sinking feeling in her gut ever since they were informed that their lesson had been moved into one of the larger rooms on the fourth floor._

_There was something about their new professor, he was too young . . . too calm, and not a soothing sort of calm, but an unnerving one. And she always had the strange feeling that Antone looked a bit too long at her sometimes. Whenever this happened she always had to push away the desire to stare back at him . . .  challenge him in some way to acknowledge what it was that he was doing._

_Lyra looked around the room. The chairs had been pushed along the walls leaving the desks to stand in their normal positions but it was obvious that they were not going to being used as they normally would._

_Unsure of what to do everyone huddled in near the front door, not going too far into the room. Sirius and James could be heard from the back of the small crowd asking loudly what the bloody hell was going on. Everyone ignored them. They were far too interested in Antone who had appeared at the front of the room._

_‘You may leave you bags by the door, make your way to a desk and take out your wands, if you please.’ He was leaning against his own desk at the front, his ankles crossed lazily, his arms folded before him. He watched as everyone did as he asked, a look of almost boredom on his face, as if what they’d all just walked into was merely another typical lesson._

_When everyone was standing behind a table, Antone pushed away and stood before them. He let the murmurings fade into silence before speaking._

_‘As you all know, I am here to expose your minds to the existence and dangers of the Dark Arts within the wider community and not all these threats will come from corrupt witches or wizards.’ Lyra tried not to look across the room as she guessed at what was coming. ‘There are creatures that plague this earth, creatures born and bred from dark magic and exist to serve the whims of dark wizards. These are creatures you could potentially face in life after Hogwarts and from what I have seen, your knowledge of them is far less than would be expected of a NEWT level class.’ Antone smirked lightly and Lyra had to supress the urge to glare at him. ‘Fortunately for you, your headmaster has seen fit to employ me so that I may teach you how to overcome the things you will face.’_

_Antone’s smirk held for a heartbeat before it was blinked away. ‘Today I have released a number of creatures around this room. On the bottom of your desks you will find a piece of parchment. Written on the parchment is the destination you will have to reach in order to complete todays lesson.’ No one moved . . . even a month or two in, they’d learnt that you didn’t do anything in Antone’s class until he instructed you to do so. ‘You are to get to your destination using defensive spells only. Anyone seen breaking this rule will find themselves explaining their actions to their Head of House. The room is wide enough that you should not cross paths with anyone else.’ He paused for another moment, daring anyone to challenge him, Lyra didn’t need to turn her head to know that he was giving a levelled stare over to where James and Sirius must have stood. ‘You may begin.’_

_For the most part, the lesson was going better than Lyra could have anticipated. Namely because Marlene had been doing all the wand work whilst Lyra stood beside her reciting spells and wand movements. And what made it better was that no one really seemed to notice that she hadn’t raised her wand yet. She’d just started to let the tiniest hint of relief in when something fell out of a desk they were approaching._

_The rest of the room was doused in silence as flames erupted in front of Marlene and Lyra’s eyes. Marlene stepped away immediately but Lyra was frozen. She didn’t know whether the silence that had overcome her was real or if the flames went unnoticed by the rest of the class but she couldn’t look away._

_Because it wasn’t just flames she saw . . . it was destruction and pain and power and the air itself seemed to surge with it, sizzle with it. And it was what she spotted in the flame’s core that had her insides scorched with cold horror. Her insides froze, she was unable to think, to feel, to breath as she stared in to the flames._

_‘Boggart.’_

_It was a miracle that Marlene’s whisper managed to reach her at all. When it did another surge of panic rippled through her._

_Gripping her Acacia and Phoenix feather wand so tightly she could feel her fingernails digging into her skin, Lyra raised her arm it. She willed her horror to recede as she said, ‘Riddikulus.’_

_With a loud bang, the flames turned into fireworks; pain became delight, darkness became bursts of colour and confetti. With each burst of colour, the boggart seemed to grow smaller and smaller. It burst back with every small explosion until it had retreated enough and was small enough to slip back into the desk draw it had rolled out of._

_For the rest of the lesson Lyra could feel at least three sets of eyes on her. Marlene just nodded to her, her complexion a bit paler than usual, and motioned that they move onto the next leg of the course. Antone made no comment about the boggart when he was giving them his evaluation (they’d been given an ‘adequate’ mark from him – the best Lyra could hope for in a practical lesson) but Lyra got the impression that he wanted to. And much to her surprise, Sirius didn’t say anything about it either . . . and he wouldn’t, not for a long time anyway._

Sirius was used to Antone’s scare tactics by now – although he didn’t find them nearly as intimidating as the young Professor probably would have liked, Sirius paid attention well enough. Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been a favourite subject of his and what with everything going on outside Hogwarts, it would probably come to be his most invaluable lessons as well.

After he was sure that there was not a sound to be heard in the room, Antone began in a low, measured tone.

‘In a few short months you will all leave the comfort of school and will have to face reality. It is this transition that often poses the greatest risk to those who have become accustomed to the safety and convenience and . . . predictability of most education structures.’ He paused and looked about the room. Sirius did too, finding that the majority of the class were sitting straight-backed and wide-eyed in their chairs.

He smirked at their reactions. Ever since the first speech Antone delivered to them, he’d come to enjoy the reactions they’d brought from the rest of the class. His amusement didn’t completely get rid of the uneasy feeling he always seemed to get whenever the Professor started to talk.

There was something about him, he was too young . . . too calm, and not a soothing sort of calm, but an unnerving one. And Sirius always had the strange feeling that Antone looked a bit too long at him sometimes. At first Sirius merely dismissed it, he was overthinking it, but it had been months and the feeling hadn’t eased.

Antone made one more sweeping look around the room before continuing.

‘As we have already established throughout the term, I am here to expose your minds to the existence and dangers of the Dark Arts that are present within the wider community. Now while this fact seems to be becoming more commonplace, considering the current climate, it is imperative that its significance doesn’t slip. The Dark Arts is forever changing, forever evolving and it is constantly trying to improve itself – expanding its applications. A blade is only as sharp as the scabbard it is kept in allows it to be. The same is true for a wizard and his wand. A wand will only ever be as powerful as the hand that holds it. That is why I am here, to make sure your blade is as sharp as it can be.’

Sirius wasn’t smirking anymore.

It was as if the class had stopped breathing . . . but Sirius had stopped listening. He was too busy reliving his wrist being held in a painful grip, of a strong, disgusting smell pushing its way up his nose and of a grating voice . . . a voice he had blissfully forgotten about until now.

_‘I get the scabbard but not the blade, how disappointing.’_

He narrowed his eyes at the young Professor, a tight feeling settling deep in his stomach.

* * *

_I get the scabbard but not the blade._

Even hours later in the last class of the day, Sirius could still hear the words repeat over and over in his head in a shrill, grating voice.

It was just a coincidence, that was all. After all what possible connection could there be between an old, dirty hag and a young Hogwarts Professor? There wasn’t any connection. Just the thought that there could be was ludicrous . . . But that didn’t stop the feeling Sirius got whenever he saw Antone . . . there was something off about that man.

But that didn’t mean he was a hag in disguise . . . it was just an odd coincidence . . . yes, that was it, nothing more . . . that was it.

Before he could become any more engrossed in pointless thoughts, James nudged his shoulder.

‘Do you think Dumbledore’ll want to talk to you?’ He said out the corner of his mouth as McGonagall made her way around the room, checking on people’s progress. They’d been tasked with transfiguring a stick insect into a working clock. Sirius and James had long since achieved this, James’ stick figure was now a grandmother clock that took up most of their desk. He and Sirius had been lazily adding to it little by little, it now had ornate carvings in the woodwork and a miniature unicorn would gallop around the time piece when the hands struck the hour.

Sirius glared after the professor as she leant over Lily and Mary’s desk, giving them a slight nod of approval as she inspected their work. ‘I’m not ruling it out,’ Sirius ground out. It was bad enough that McGonagall had forced Lyra into meeting with Dumbledore – Sirius had cornered her after lunch and demanded to know what had happened after he and Regulus had left. If only there was a way to get to Dumbledore first, to convince him that a meeting with Lyra wasn’t necessary.

Personally, he didn’t have a problem with Dumbledore, in fact, he rather admired him, but for some reason, Lyra didn’t share his opinion of the man.

James, no doubt sensing Sirius’ worry, tried to lighten the mood. ‘Maybe he just wants to talk about, y’know,’ he lowered his voice, ‘the Order of the Phoenix.’

The thought entered his head like metal cogs grinding to a halt. He hadn’t even thought about that possibility. The Marauders had been talking about it ever since Dumbledore had mentioned it two months ago when they’d all been summoned to his office after being caught trying to eavesdrop on Lestrange and his little gang. They hadn’t meant to follow them, but it was too tempting after they caught sight of them as they were making their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room from the kitchens.

The Marauders had all decided that they would accept if Dumbledore brought it up again. Things were getting worse by the day out there, there were new reports of people disappearing daily in the Daily Prophet, and they’d long since been shocked by stories detailing attacks on muggle towns and families. Sirius wouldn’t sit by whilst people his parents idolised got their way.

‘Do you think he knows that you told Lyra?’

Sirius blinked and the room came into focus again. He pinched his eyes for a moment before pointing his wand at his own clock, expanding the carvings in the wood. ‘Probably, the man’s not stupid.’ _If he’s smart though, he won’t bring it up with her._ Sirius couldn’t picture Lyra being particularly eager to volunteer, she had a tendency to just sit and watch things play out, she told him it was more entertaining that way.

‘When’s your detention?’ James said, watching McGonagall get closer and closer.

‘Wednesday night, cleaning the stained-glass windows in the north tower. Wouldn’t be all that bad except the portraits like to pester me, saying that I missed a spot.’

‘Oh well, just bring your mirror and tell me when you’re alone. I’ll save you, mate.’ James puffed out his chest proudly.

‘Whatever would I do without you?’ Sirius fawned over him. ‘However would I survive without my knight in shining armour?’ He threw his arms around James and squeezed him tightly.

‘You’ll never have to find out! I promise!’ James cried.

They were hugging each other and fake wailing with mock pride and gratitude when a terse cough had them breaking apart. McGonagall was looking down at them, a single eyebrow raised and a scolding surely ready on the tip of her tongue.

As they broke apart, Sirius caught the eye of Clementine Salt, a Ravenclaw who had been watching Sirius and James’ little display with undisguised amusement. Sirius winked at her as he looked up at McGonagall, happy with the blush that rose on her cheeks.

* * *

The Marauders had reached the staircase that lead into the Entrance Hall where students were piling in from all directions, all of them heading to the Great Hall for dinner. From his place on the stairs Sirius spotted Lyra and Dorcas making their way in from the grounds – they must have just finished Care of Magical Creatures.

Looking after animals had always had a calming effect on Lyra, Sirius suspected it was because she could get caught up in the animal meanwhile forgetting everything that might be bothering her.

Sirius gave her an irritated look that went unnoticed. Yes, Lyra Black, that’s what you do best isn’t it? Ignore your problems in the hope that they’ll figure themselves out.

Well Sirius was through ignoring things, he was finished with it.

But that isn’t what James had nudged him for. He nodded his head in the opposite direction and Sirius followed his line of sight.

It was as if Hogwarts had heard his thoughts. A group of Slytherin’s appeared trudging up the stairs from the dungeons. It seemed that Hogwarts was scoffing at Sirius saying _don’t ignore things, aye? Prove it._

The Entrance Hall crowd was thinning quickly and by the time the Marauders were halfway across the Hall they were almost level to the Slytherins. The two groups would have to bottleneck in order to enter the Great Hall.

Just before they got into view of all those already eating in the hall beyond, Sirius moved so quickly that there were echoes of alert from the two groups. But it didn’t matter, Sirius already had his brother up against the nearest wall. One arm pushing the younger's chest, pinning him to the wall, the other hand holding a wand to Regulus’ chin, its tip glowing an angry red.

 ‘I’ll say this just once more, in case you missed it this morning whilst you were shitting your pants.’ Sirius couldn’t see what the others were doing, he didn’t care, the world was dark around them, all that mattered was the tip of Sirius’ wand and the slightly wide eyes of Regulus. ‘Stay away from Lyra or I swear to everything in this world, you will regret it.’

The dark turned burning red as Regulus smirked.

‘Well that’s up to her, isn’t it?’

A rage of fury rushed through Sirius’ ears so that he couldn’t hear the pleading calls of Remus or the snide threats being thrown around by the others.

‘This is going to be my only warning – you do anything to hurt her, to bring any sort of harm to her whatsoever, I will gladly show you all the love Mother and Father have shown us, in all it’s forms.’

In the flash of a moment, Regulus’ smirk crinkled into something like a grimace. Sirius recognised this look, having seen it the night Sirius left with Lyra, when Lyra was covered in blood and dying on Sirius’ bed.

Sirius shoved himself away from Regulus and made his way to the Great Hall, not caring to dig himself through that red that had consumed the world.

‘It’s over!’ He called over his shoulder before he passed into the Great Hall. He looked over to the Gryffindor table and stopped dead in his tracks.

Lyra was looking right at him and he had never seen her so angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are my fuel ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos on this story! Feel free to leave a message about what you think of it so far

_Lily's shoulders squared and she crossed the room with slow, menacing steps until she was less than a meter from him. 'I am sick and tired of that girl being let down by the men in her life,' she growled. Even though she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, it was Remus who felt two feet tall._

_She stared at him a moment longer before spinning on her heel and closing the door behind her._

_Remus stood in the middle of the room well after she'd left, staring at the place she'd been standing, hearing her unspoken words ringing painfully in his head._

_I expected better from you, Remus. Fix this, or you'll lose her._

‘How long are you going to keep this going?’

Remus and Lyra were lounging on a blanket that had been thrown down over the snow under a tree out near the frozen lake. The air surrounding them was a lot calmer and warmer than the air Remus had walked through to get here . . . He doubted it was a natural phenomenon.

They’d found each other here a while ago. Well Lyra was already here and Remus hadn’t so much found her rather than sought her out, which hadn’t really taken that much effort since he’d had the map and all.

Remus had woken to strong, howling wind pressing itself against the dormitory window. The room was quite warm and quite empty. James and Sirius were no doubt already down at the Quidditch Pitch for practice.

Harold Davies, a sixth-year Gryffindor who had become the new Quidditch captain at the start of the year had stepped into the role with rather a large amount of enthusiasm. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were neck-and-neck on the ladder for second place with Slytherin just holding onto the lead – something that was not acceptable. This lead to Davies – after some rather ardent encouragement from James – to schedule regular training sessions . . . no matter the weather apparently.

Peter’s bed had been empty as well. He probably tagged along with the other two who, Remus vaguely remembered, had promised to help the boy with his flying skills.

By the time Remus had dragged himself out of bed, went down to breakfast – helping himself to an extra helping of sausages seeing as the Great Hall was practically deserted – and made sure his homework was up to date, it was barely even ten o’clock.  

But then he remembered that he still had the Marauders Map in his bag. The boys had all agreed that, out of the four of them, the map would be safest with Remus over the holidays. He dug it out and began searching for the only name he wanted to see. 

Now he lay on his side, propped up by his elbow, watching Lyra lay on the blanket, reading quietly. Remus’ own book lay forgotten beside him, instead he’d taken to watching the grounds, the students who’d started some pretty impressive snow ball fights with solidly constructed forts and all. Off in the distance he could just make out the tops of the Quidditch posts through the thin mist. Every so often a figure on a broomstick would fly around one of the posts before quickly dipping and disappearing again.

It was this sight that had lead Remus to thinking about Sirius and the twin’s on-going silent treatment in the first place. The twins hadn’t spoken in a whole week. It may very well have been the longest they’d gone without talking. The only other time that even came close to this streak was back in fifth year when . . . No, he wouldn’t think about that now, he’d made himself a promise.

He was sure Sirius was going to approach Lyra after dinner that night he’d confronted Regulus, but Sirius had just averted his gaze and given his sister a wide birth. And Remus didn’t blame Sirius for being a little scared of her. She had been so enraged that the ring of pure silver which circled her irises had seemed to glow . . . no they seemed to burn, white hot flames in a raging storm.

Lyra flipped another page of her book.

‘Clearly, he doesn’t want to hear anything that I have to say, so why should I talk to him at all?’

‘Of course, he wants to hear what you have to say.’

‘Perhaps, but he never listens to me anyway so I really don’t see the point in it. I asked him not to start fights and a day later he’s attacking people, and not just anyone, but Regulus! Regulus!’ She’d dropped her book and was now staring up at the tree’s snow covered branches.

Remus rolled over so he was being propped up by his forearms. Lyra had a hand resting on her stomach and Remus felt the familiar feeling of panic flare, as it so often did whenever Lyra’s stomach was involved. He knew that there was nothing to worry about, she’d healed, she was fine and that’s simply where her arm had fallen, but still the panic remained.

Remus blinked. ‘But that’s not all that’s going on between the two of you, is it?’

She turned to him, frowning a little. Remus inhaled.

‘I _may_ have overheard the two of you a few weeks ago at the Potters.’

Her frown deepened.

‘You were talking about some dinner or something,’ his voice trailed off, he didn’t know how much he should admit to. He _really_ wanted to ask more questions, but then she’d know just how much he’d heard and she was still sore from whatever it was that was going on between her and Sirius.

But Lyra simply sighed in annoyance, turning from him and closing her eyes.

‘Sirius is just being paranoid, as per usual.’

Neither of them said anything for a moment or two. They just let the sounds of the students laughing, the gentle thud Giant Squid’s tentacles pressing up against the ice of the lake off in the distance, wash over them.

‘I’m sorry,’ came Lyra’s voice. ‘I know you hate it when we fight.’

Remus snorted and moved closer to her side. ‘The whole castle hates it when the two of you fight.’

A smile bloomed on to her face when she opened her eyes to find him leaning over her.

‘Well it’s a good thing that not _everyone_ seems too upset then.’

Remus pretended to be affronted as he slowly lowered his face to meet hers. ‘If you’re talking about me then I’ll have you know that I . . . am . . . very . . . very . . . upset.’ He pressed short kisses to her lips, cheeks, forehead between the words.

‘If you say so,’ Lyra giggled at his attention, which had grown now that he’d stopped speaking.

Remus grinned and gently bit a spot on her neck he knew would get a response from. He wasn’t disappointed as Lyra gave a small squeal of delight, hitting his chest.

‘Remus, what do you think you’re doing? Not here!’

‘Why not?’ He mumbled into her skin, revelling in the warmth she was giving off.

‘Because . . .’ Remus couldn’t help but let out a huff of satisfaction when he heard how breathless she’d become. ‘Because there are kids around! What if someone sees?’

He pulled himself away from her so that he could look straight into her eyes. Those silver pools positively swimming, the rings sparkling up at him.

‘Well that’s their fault for being rude little voyeurs now, isn’t it?’

She playfully glared up at him, her lips twisting slightly – a tell-tale sign that she was trying to hold in a smile – before he captured them with his own.

What he wouldn’t give to be frozen in this moment forever. From the snowflakes falling gently, to the soft breeze swirling around them, to Lyra underneath him, her hands in his hair. It was perfection, totally, completely. 

Or it would have been if a twig hadn’t snapped from somewhere in the forest behind them that had both of them pulling back and looking into the shadowy undergrowth.

Lyra was the first to look away, she patted Remus’ chest. ‘It’s probably just an animal.’

Remus nodded but didn’t look away. Now that he focussed, he swore he could hear something, almost like . . .

‘Remus!’

He looked down at her.

She patted his chest again, pushing a little this time.

‘Come on, I better get going, I’m sure I was supposed to meet the girls for lunch.’

He rolled over and watched Lyra get up. She bent down and gave him a chaste kiss. ‘I’ll see you later.’

He watched her until she was out of sight before he turned back to the forest, trying to find that sound again. But it was gone.

XXXXXX

That was close. He shouldn’t have been that near to the edge of the forest in the first place but it was as if he felt something pulling him towards her. Or rather something about _her_ that was calling out to _him_. He could feel the magical energy rolling off her in intense waves and she wasn’t even trying!

He was almost giddy thinking about what she would be able to do if she were to harness that power.

His elation had turned into molten fury when the boy leaned in to her. And he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from screaming when the distance between them disappeared completely.  He didn’t even realise that he’d taken a step towards them until the twig under his foot snapped. Quickly stepping back, he’d tried to calm his breathing, very aware that both teenagers were now peering into the forest.

She was the first to dismiss it but the boy wasn’t so quick.

There was something about the boy, it was as if he could actually _hear_ him, he could practically see the boy’s ears prick up. As quietly as he could, he took another step back into the forest, and then another, and another, until he was far enough away that he simply turned and walked away freely.

The worry of being discovered dissipated but the fury, the fury remained, it was a volcanic river rampaging through his veins. And he knew the one thing that would calm it.

XXXXXX

Lyra had never noticed how long a week could last.

Amongst the ever-growing mountain of work from her classes, her apprehension about her upcoming detention with Dumbledore and dealing with Lily Evans’s sudden new interest in becoming Lyra’s friend, Lyra assumed she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to ignore Sirius. 

But she’d been so very wrong. She supposed it would have been a lot harder if Sirius’ hadn’t been avoiding her as well.

Maybe Remus was right. _Of course Remus is right._ Maybe Sirius would listen to her now. . . maybe enough steam had stopped coming out of his ears enough to let something seep in for a change. Especially since she’d now had enough time to figure out what she was going to say, well she would when she eventually found him.

Which in itself was proving a challenge. She’d searched the Common Room, had asked Remus to check the Boys dormitory, she’d gone down to the Great Hall and even checked the library, which she realised as soon as she stepped into the dusty place was going to be a waste of time – she didn’t think she’d ever seen Sirius in the library. Finally she found him in the kitchens.

He had his back to her, sitting at one of the long tables. An ink pot and a piece of parchment sat next to him and he looked to be reading (an oddity that made her pause) from a large book. A rather large bowl of chocolate ice cream sat to the side, seemingly forgotten about.

She was half way to him when a small house elf with a long, narrow nose, hurried up to meet her.

‘Good evening Miss Lyra,’ the elf squeaked. ‘May Telly get Miss something to eat, or something to drink?’

Lyra glanced over at Sirius, who hadn’t looked away from the book. She leaned in to the elf and lowered her voice. ‘Just a spoon, thanks Telly.’

The elf nodded vigorously and scampered off. By the time Lyra had reached the table and sat down across from Sirius, Telly had reappeared, handing her a single silver spoon. Lyra thanked her and Telly hurried off to help finish preparing the next day’s breakfast.

For a while they sat in silence, Lyra eating from Sirius’ bowl, Sirius reading, the hustle and bustle of the house elves working filling the room.

She had planned to act nonchalantly, as if they had never stopped talking in the first place, but then she noticed the book.

Her face fell.

‘What’s going on?’

‘We haven’t talked in days and those are the first words you choose to say to me?’ He said, not looking at her.

‘Cut it out.’ And as quickly as she could, she leant forwards, grabbing for the book but Sirius was quicker. Leaning back into her chair, Lyra crossed her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow.

With a twitch of the fingers the thick tome slid across the table, coming to rest open in front of her. She glanced down at it to see pages covered in complicated diagrams filled in with countless dates and complicated names. Flipping it over to the cover, she read the peeling gold letters aloud.

‘ _A Comprehensive Guide to Britain’s most Ancient Wizarding Houses._ ’ Nerves squirmed inside her as she lifted her gaze to look at Sirius. He didn’t return her look, instead picking up his own discarded spoon and going in for more ice-cream. ‘You know, I’m actually afraid to ask.’

He scoffed as he leaned back, a joking smile meeting her. ‘And you call _me_ dramatic.’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said, pointing to the book. ‘But this is being said from the voice of experience.’ All she got in response was an eye-roll.

Returning to the book, she flipped through its worn pages. The majority were laden with large, intricate family trees. Some were dedicated purely for explaining the history of a certain family, others had been set aside in order to explain just how everyone within a particular family was connected to one another.

‘Didn’t you have your fill of this when we were younger?’ She mumbled, briefly skimming over a page entitled _The Most Ancient and Their Significance: The Sacred Twenty-Eight_.

‘What, can’t I have a renewed interest in something?’

Lyra merely looked at him blankly. Then she saw the parchment and the quill resting in the ink pot next to it.

Following her eyes, Sirius made a grab for the parchment, but Lyra was prepared this time and got their first.

‘Lyra, wait. Lyra don’t!’

Ignoring his pleas, Lyra unfolded it and started to read.

She recognised the handwriting immediately, as well as the name written next to _‘Dear’_ at the top.

‘Uncle Alphard?’

Sirius’ mouth was working like a fish out of water, opening and closing silently.

‘Why are you writing to Uncle Alphard? We haven’t spoken to him in . . . well . . . have we ever spoken to him?’

Realising that Sirius wasn’t going to be offering any sort of explanation, she returned to the letter. As she read she felt the muscles in her face slacken and the tight feeling in her stomach – the feeling that had been ever present for so very long now – swelled suddenly, like a heavy rock dropped into still water.

‘I can explain.’ Sirius had found his voice.

‘I don’t think you can, actually.’ She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. ‘But give it your best shot.’

Sirius hesitated for a fraction of a second, not missing the underlying threat that lurked under her words.  ‘Look I know you think I’m being paranoid and that I’m making too much out of this.’

Lyra had to resist the urge to nod in whole-hearted agreement and simply settled for pursing her lips as Sirius went on.

‘But I’m not like you, Lyra! I can’t just forget about what happened, and I know,’ he said quickly, catching the look on her face, ‘I know you wish that I could. But I _know_ I’m right about this on some level.’

There was something he wasn’t telling her. She knew there was. She could always tell when there was something bothering him, except usually she knew what it was. This time though she knew he was only telling her half of whatever it was that stirred his worry.

She could only watch as he leaned further across the table, lowering his voice. ‘Something had Mother scared that night. She was far too quiet. If it were different than she would’ve joined in, would’ve been egging me on as well.’

Lyra could feel her resolve crack, little fissures running through old weathered stone. She unfolded her arms that had suddenly grown strangely heavy and placed them in her lap. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed how quiet their Mother had been that night. Usually – even if she did choose to keep on the quiet side – she would’ve at least made the effort to sneer at her eldest children, especially if it was being done in agreement when someone else was pointing out all their various faults. But, as reluctant as she was to admit it, Lyra couldn’t deny the fact that their Mother’s attitude that night had unnerved her more than a little. She _had been_ too quiet, too pale, her eyes too wide, her answers too metallic.

‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ Lyra tried to say in a strong, sure voice, but Sirius wasn’t having any of it.

‘It doesn’t disprove anything either. Madam Rosier was onto something and Mother knew it.’

‘That still doesn’t explain why you’re sending letters to Alphard. Sirius, he’s ancient! Everyone knows that he’s practically on his death bed. I doubt he remembers what he had for breakfast this morning let alone anything about this.’

‘Well it’s not like I can waltz into Rosier Estate and simply ask Madam Rosier exactly what she was talking about that night. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to invite me inside so we can discuss the matter over a nice cup of tea.’

‘And you think _Alphard_ might know something we don’t?’

‘What _do_ we know, Lyra? I mean, apart from the obvious,’ he said, waving a dismissive hand in her direction. He didn’t acknowledge her raised eyebrow as he took another spoonful of ice-cream. ‘It’s worth a try. We weren’t around back then, he was, he could know something.’

‘You really believe these rumours, don’t you?’ She wasn’t too sure she wanted to know the answer but the question was out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

Sirius looked at her with a hard expression for a moment. She wondered if he was trying to decide how honest he should be. ‘I don’t know.’ His voice was just as hard as his brow-line. ‘But the more I think about it, the more plausible it becomes.’

Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose, cursing the ability her twin had in stirring up her sense of curiosity, a sense she usually tried to quell. Curiosity only landed a person in trouble, or in Sirius’ case in twice as much trouble along with a fair amount of danger.

But listening to him now had everything she’d ever heard about the rumours surrounding their Mother’s first pregnancy come boiling back.

She sighed. ‘Fine, but I don’t want to hear any more about it.’ Merlin knew she had plenty of other things to worry about.

Sirius snorted. ‘Won’t stop you from worrying about it though, will it?’

‘Isn’t that what the eldest is supposed to do?’

She gave him a small smile when he looked across at her.

‘Fine. Deal,’ Sirius said, getting up from the table. He flicked his wand and the books disappeared, no doubt back to their shelf in the Library where he’d stolen them from in the first place.

Lyra, who was still holding the letter, folded it up and handed it back to him. ‘Just, don’t be disappointed if he can’t tell you anything.’

‘You almost sound hopeful that he won’t.’

Lyra didn’t say anything as she put her spoon gently on the table and stood up. Sirius didn’t call out to her . . . he didn’t say anything as she left the kitchens.

When she was younger she remembered visiting one of her Mothers friend – an aunt or some such – and while the woman was a little strange, she’d told Lyra once that she was unique, special, capable of so much more than anyone would ever allow. Such words said to such a young girl would of course be received with some fair amount of wonder and excitement. Looking back as an adult, however, the words haunted her.

Try as she might to dismiss these memories . . . she was so young, she may have misheard, her mind might have somehow changed what was really said . . . maybe the woman was insane, not really knowing what she was saying or who she was saying it to . . . still, Lyra could hear her voice sometimes.

But that was a lifetime ago. And even if Sirius was okay with allowing himself to be sucked into it she wouldn’t.

Lyra reached the end of the corridor and found herself facing a long staircase. The thought of all those steps had her unconsciously touching her stomach gingerly.

No . . . she wouldn’t spend any more time thinking about old uncles and aunts, rumours and the like . . . she had far important things to worry about.

And they still hadn’t mentioned Regulus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos on this work. Seeing as how this was only supposed to be the first chapter and nothing else, it's really grown and I'm glad people are enjoying it.   
> Thanks especially to puppyduckster (cool name by the way)! I'm glad you like Lyra's character, I enjoy writing characters that are bit different. And I know what you mean about poor Regulus being left out a lot in other stories. I do plan on making him a central character that is equal to everyone else.  
> For anyone else who'd like to leave a comment, please don't be shy!  
> Enjoy :)

## Chapter Ten

_‘Dumbledore –’_

_‘Oh please!’ Lyra scoffed, a sharp burst of derisive laughter pushed from her. ‘Everyone acts as if he’s the benevolent father figure in all this. He isn’t! He doesn’t care for you, Remus. Not like I do.’ She took a few steps towards him, then stopped. Her eyes, which had started to soften for the briefest possible second, glinted sharply again. ‘I would have been out there, looking for you, had_ he _not placed James on babysitting duty!’_

* * *

It took a while for Lyra to figure out what was making her so anxious Monday morning. In fact, it wasn’t until she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast that realisation came in the form of a small bit of parchment, handed to her by a tight-lipped Professor McGonagall, who merely nodded curtly before walking on.

Lyra watched her approach Sirius who was sitting a little way down the table. It looked like he was being handed an invitation to a highly prestigious party. He smiled graciously up at McGonagall. Lyra even heard him joke that he would be honoured to attend and that he would be awaiting its arrival with baited breath. As soon as McGonagall’s back was to him, however, Sirius threw the parchment onto the table and scowled after her.

Looking back down at her own slip of parchment, Lyra found the time and place, along with instructions on how to get to Dumbledore’s office, printed in neat script. Below the details was a single word, scrawled almost as if it was an after-thought. _Droobles_. She guessed that this was the password to his office … Dumbledore’s office.

Her stomach plummeted.

For six and a half years she had successfully avoided one-on-one interactions with her Headmaster. Normally this feat wouldn’t be all that special what with Hogwarts being a fairly large school and the fact that Dumbledore didn’t actually teach a class, but with having Sirius as a brother, she had to count herself lucky that she’d never been caught up in his drama enough to warrant a meeting. And now it was all useless. All her caution, shot to hell.

‘What’s that?’

Lyra looked up to Marlene who had just taken a seat across from her. The blonde reached for a slice of toast buttering it, all the while trying to get at the proper angle to see what was written on the slip still in Lyra’s hands.

‘Detention,’ was all Lyra said, going back to her own breakfast, being careful to avoid Marlene’s eyes.

Thankfully, Marlene didn’t say anything more about it, not that the topic she brought up next was much better.

‘So, apparently, someone was spotted down by the lake on Saturday canoodling with one Remus Lupin.’

Lyra choked on her pumpkin juice, she hurriedly tried to mask it by feigning a sneezing fit. One look at Marlene’s face told her that the rouse hadn’t worked.

‘I never picked you as the type to be interested in gossip,’ Lyra said in what she hoped was an off-hand kind of voice.

‘Normally you’d be right, but it’s always good to know what’s going on around here.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Especially when it involves someone I know.’

‘Well I’m sure Remus will be touched to know you’re thinking of him.’

Marlene looked caught somewhere between wanting to narrow her eyes even further and smirking, the resultant expression had Lyra grinning into her goblet.

Marlene had, for months, suspected that there was something going on between Lyra and Remus. And, if she were to be honest with herself, Lya didn’t think she’d mind all that much if Marlene were to find out about them, but she was enjoying the peace and quiet of their relationship too much to let it slip. What she had with Remus was easy and that’s what she wanted . . . what she needed right now.

‘Alright, answer me this then,’ Marlene said with renewed determination, ‘why is half of Slytherin table glaring right at you?’

As discreetly as she could, Lyra turned to look over her right shoulder, scanning the far table before quickly looking away again. ‘I don’t think a single student is the same as half the table,’ she deadpanned to Marlene.

Marlene waved her off. ‘Might as well be. That’s a pretty intense look, Lyra.’

‘Sirius has probably done something to piss him off.’

‘So he’s glaring at _you_?’

‘Maybe he’s getting confused. With the rate Sirius’ hair is growing, I wouldn’t be completely surprised at him getting us mixed up.’

Marlene snorted, not convinced. She raised a hand and wiggled her fingers in Lestrange’s direction, a small and – to Lyra’s horror – somewhat flirtatious smile toying around her mouth.

‘Stop that!’ Lyra reached across and grabbed her hand, pulling it down to the table, ignoring Marlene’s smirk. Desperately trying to steer the conversation to one a little safer, Lyra asked, ‘What classes have you got today?’

With an eye-roll Marlene scrambled through her bag for a moment before extracting her timetable. Giving it a quick scan she said, ‘Arithmancy first, Charms after that, so we’ll be back together before you know it!’

‘Joy,’ Lyra muttered, which earnt her a shove. ‘Where’s Dorcas?’

‘How should I know?’

Lyra’s eyebrows raised. ‘What’s going on between the two of you lately?’

Marlene snorted in a rather unladylike, rather Marlene kind of way. ‘I have no bloody idea! The girl’s got her wand in knot for what’s probably a stupid reason and has decided to take it out on me.’

Lyra wasn’t entirely convinced, especially when Marlene’s eyes not so subtly slid to somewhere down the Gryffindor table. Her gaze only held there for a second, but it was long enough to raise Lyra’s suspicions, even more so when she remembered who it was who sat down there.

She would have spent longer contemplating just what was going on with her friends if it weren’t for the burning feeling currently heating her neck. She could feel him staring at her. Considering what had happened over Christmas, she knew that he might try something, but that fact didn’t stop her being so surprised when he’d approached her just last week . . .

_Lily and Lyra stood outside the Potions room, trying to ignore the snide comments from Maxus Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange. Both girls had become rather adept at disregarding whatever they may overhear from the Slytherin’s, and after what had happened as a result of Lyra’s most recent outburst, she wasn’t about to make the mistake of losing control again._

_The situation was made slightly worse by Snape’s presence. He was hovering next to Lestrange and Mulciber, seemingly absorbed in his potions text book but every so often, when the others would make direct reference to them, Snape’s attention would flicker over to Lily. Lily kept her eyes firmly on the potions door, though it was clear from how rigidly she stood that she wasn’t deaf to the jibes being sent her way or blind to all three boy’s attentions._

_Thankfully, the classroom door opened before either girl could bend to temptation and hex the Slytherin’s. Professor Slughorn gave a boisterous cry of surprise, as if he’d forgotten that he had a class at all. Whether he noticed the obvious tension or not, he quickly ushered them inside. Upon spotting Lily, Slughorn personally showed her through the door, quickly striking up a conversation about what she’d thought of the homework he’d assigned them and if she’d be attending the upcoming Slug Club dinner._

_The relief that had been sweeping through Lyra at the distraction of Slughorn came to a sudden stop when a hand grabbed her arm on her way to the room._

_‘You know you’re better than this, right?’_

_Lestrange had leaned in so close to her that his face was unfocussed when she tried to look at him. She tried to lean away but his grip on her was too tight._

_‘You don’t have to live on the back of his mistakes.’_

_Lyra gritted her teeth when he moved in closer._

_‘There are people here who care about you, Lyra. I remember when there was a time you’d believe me when I said that. But it’s true. It’s as true now as it was then. Please remember that the next time you’re dragged into one of Sirius’ messes.’ He let go and entered the classroom, leaving Lyra to lose another short breath of relief out in the corridor._

Lyra had spent the rest of the lesson pretending that she and Slughorn were the only two people who existed. This was difficult given the fact that Lily seemed almost desperate to make conversation. Thankfully the topics she brought up – the Slug Club dinner and how she probably should ask James to go with her, which would have been fine except he’d somehow find a way to sneak Sirius in as well, which could only end in disaster, and the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw which would could determine the final match if Ravenclaw lost by a margin of 150 points and how she can’t believe she knows this much about Quidditch now, but seeing as how obsessed James is with it, that she shouldn’t be that surprised – were all topics that Lyra could nod along to and feign interest in.

To her surprise, Slughorn invited Lyra to the dinner as well.

‘It would be lovely if you could make it, m’dear!’ He positively beamed at her whilst checking on her half-finished potion. ‘If you’re still interested in magizoology then I’m sure it will prove to be most engaging, what with the guests I’ve invited along!’

Lyra could only blink and nod – she wasn’t even sure if she managed to force out a smile – but it seemed to be enough for the Professor who just chuckled in delight before moving on.

So, now she had _that_ to look forward to as well as everything else. Just the thought of it almost had her groaning into her pumpkin juice.

Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to think about it as one thing at a time . . . first up; detention with Dumbledore

XXXXXX

She stood outside the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, staring at the statue that concealed the spiral staircase, Sirius’ words kept echoing in her mind.

‘I’m just saying that it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it,’ he’d said whilst the two sat in a corner of the Common Room. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

He just didn’t understand. She _knew_ what to do too, she hadn’t come this far by being clueless. And she realised he was just concerned, but ever since that incident at the start of the holidays his concern had been taken to a whole new level, and it was becoming exhausting.

‘Well? Are you going to tell me the password or are you just going to keep me waiting all night?’

Lyra blinked and realised that it was the statue that had spoken. Apologising, she told it the password and stepped forward.

The door to Dumbledore’s office was already wedged open when Lyra stepped onto the landing at the top of the stairs. She took this as a kind of invitation. He obviously knew she’d be stopping by and yet he was no when in sight as she peered into the office beyond. Trying to steal her confidence, she strode through the door.

Never having been summoned to his office before, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting. Of course, Sirius and the others had filled her in on some of the details, but she now realised that there was a great deal they’d forgotten to mention.

Like all the various silver and bronze instruments placed amongst the books and on small tables throughout the circular room. They whirled, popped and spun around like spinning tops. There was a constant soft hum of noise and activity blanketing the space. Lyra could feel soft ripples of magic emanating from them, she shuffled around the feeling, skirting the area, pretending she couldn’t feel a thing.

Glancing at the various bookshelves lining the walls. Her feet paused when she saw what was sitting amongst the volumes. Looking as worn and as tattered as ever, the Sorting Hat sat unanimated, harmless, meaningless. But even without a trace of life, Lyra still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was looking right at her, watching her, judging her, silently reminding her of things she already knew.

Stifling the frustrated anger that had started to rise in her like flames from a fire, she continued further into the room.

She was only a metre or two away from the Headmaster’s desk when she stopped dead.

She was keenly aware of exactly two things. Only one of those things came as a shock, however, the other she’d been dreading ever since entering the office . . . no, it had been even longer than that . . . she’d been dreading it ever since McGonagall told her that _this_ is where she’d serve detention – _here,_ where _he_ could watch on from above.

She scoured the surrounding walls where a sea of portraits hung. The majority of the past headmasters and mistresses of Hogwarts were snoozing in their frames, or were pretending to do so at least. A few were awake and staring at her undisguised and unblinking. She paid them no mind as she searched for the frame she knew would be up there.

Apprehension grew as she looked from portrait to portrait. She hadn’t laid eyes on him in years. She couldn’t remember exactly what was said during their last conversation but from the sour taste in her mouth at the thought of him she couldn’t imagine that it had been particularly pleasant.

What would he say to her being here? Would he report back to _them_? Would they see fit to send her another letter? This time they could very well spit on her name and they might not be as kind to forgo the use of a howler. Dread grew like rising rapids as she glanced from one old wizard to the next.

‘Ah, Miss Black!’

Lyra gave a start, looking away from the wall at once. The sight of Albus Dumbledore standing behind his desk was enough to cause the rapids to recede but a sick feeling lingered like sea foam, clinging to her stomach and lungs.

The headmaster was positively beaming, blue eyes sparkling from behind his half-moon spectacles as he regarded her. She’d never had the urge to shuffle on her feet more in her life. Thankfully, he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her before the urge became too overwhelming.

He stood for a moment after she’d sat down, looking at her and although his expression remained harmless, she couldn’t help feeling increasingly uneasy. She could feel the hidden intent behind those blue orbs, and decided it would be safer for the both of them if she didn’t hold his gaze for long. Instead, she looked straight ahead and came face to face with the thing that had delivered her such a shock moments before.

She’d read about Phoenix’s of course, but seeing one in real life made the books she’d read seem more like children’s stories – crude, basic and truly undeserving of the real thing.

It’s red and gold plumage seemed to hold a gleam to it that had nothing to do with the fire its perch was set against. It was so tall that she imagined it’s wing-span to fill the entire office wall-to-wall.  But what really proved the most mesmerising thing was it’s small, black, eyes that reflected the light like precious stones.

It didn’t just seem to be watching her either . . . it seemed to be studying her, studying her with such intensity the Headmaster could never hope to achieve. In return she looked it over as well, but then again, she’d never seen a Phoenix before, the bird must have seen quiet enough humans for them to hold any sort of interest for it. It’s eyes followed every move hers did and she couldn’t seem to look away.

‘I’ve just made some tea, would you like a cup?’

With a great deal of effort she tore her eyes away from the bird long enough to murmur a quick, ‘Yes, thank you, sir,’ but as soon as Dumbledore’s back was to her, she found her attention being pulled back to the Phoenix.

It wasn’t just the fact that she was looking at an incredibly rare animal that had her intrigued . . . She could almost _feel_ it’s curiosity, could almost _hear_ it’s mind working. It was as if they were talking to each other but it was answering her in a silent language she couldn’t understand.

Suddenly, it clicked its beak and Lyra had to grip the edge of her seat as a ripple shot through her. Blinking, wide-eyed, trying to shake off the sensation, Lyra stared at the bird wide-eyed.

A hitch in her breath was the only outward show of surprise she’d allow herself to make in such public and curious company. Lyra forced her breath to be released slowly, control taking over but she couldn’t seem to relax enough to let go of the armrests.

She’d never felt anything like it, not from an outward source at any rate. But that would be impossible. The bird couldn’t have known that she could experience a surge like that unharmed, unless . . . unless the conversation she’d been unwittingly having with it had grown suddenly more sinister.

But as it sat on it’s perch, blinking over at her, it’s head slightly tilted to one side, it didn’t seem at all threatening. If anything it looked even more curious than before, like it had just conducted an experiment and was still puzzling over the results.

An experiment . . . a controlled one. It knew she would be able to handle a surge of raw magic. So if it knew Lyra wouldn’t be hurt by it then it must know that _–_

‘Sugar?’

It took all her control not to jump. She’d almost forgotten about Dumbledore, who had been bustling about in the back corner of the room. She shook her head – trying to dislodge her thoughts as much as answer Dumbledore – and watched as he placed the tea cup on the desk in front of her.

She stared at it while Dumbledore took a seat in his high-backed chair. She couldn’t seem to move. Whether it was the lingering effects of the bird’s experiment or still being stuck within her own head, she wasn’t sure. After taking a few sips from his own cup, he put it down in front of him and then leant back, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

‘And how are you today, Miss Black?’

For such a simple question it was harder than anyone would have thought to answer. Lyra felt all the things she wanted to say rise up her throat like bile. She wanted to say that her stomach hurt, that it had been throbbing consistently for days and had now become rather painful. Every movement had the fabric of her shirt only sought to frustrate the issue and she didn’t know whether she was in more pain when she stood or when she had the chance to sit down. She wanted to say that she was annoyed, not at anything in particular, but just annoyed, like a rash that just wouldn’t budge. And she wanted to tell him that she was tired, so tired.

She wanted to say all of these things . . . but he was the last person she wanted to say them to. Instead, the corners of her lips twitched up in a polite half-smile of acknowledgement and she replied with, ‘I’m fine, thank you, sir.’

‘I trust that you are looking forward to the end of the year? I know how taxing exam revision can be.’

She nodded her head.

If Dumbledore was at all disappointed by the lack of response than he wasn’t showing it.

‘How are your classes coming along? I trust you’re preparing for your upcoming NEWT examinations.’

Lyra refused to let her shoulder sag, particularly as she thought of the large list of essays and revision work she had yet to look at. ‘I am sir.’

‘Any particular favourite subjects?’

‘I’ve always been partial to Ancient Runes, sir.’

‘Yes, Professor Weatherby has always spoken very highly of you,’ Dumbledore said with a smile. ‘I must confess to having browsed through your academic records. Hearing that Ancient Runes is your preferred subject isn’t at all surprising, you have always seemed to favour theory over practicality.’

‘Well I’ve always had the belief that one’s brains should be favoured just as much as one’s brawn, sir,’ she said lightly. Let him think whatever he wanted about her academic record. She didn’t come here for him to goad something out of her she might regret.

Dumbledore gave a chuckle. ‘I suppose you’re right, but considering the current climate it wouldn’t hurt to have just a little more brawn.’

_The current climate? Please don’t bring up the Order. Please remember that you talked about it with Sirius and the others. You never said anything about it to me . . . hell, you’ve never even talked to me before now!_

‘But you have not come to me tonight to have a chat about your academic studies,’ Dumbledore said softly, picking up his cup again and taking another sip.

The anxiety that had settled like thick liquid in the depths of Lyra’s stomach started to vaporize, filling her innards with uncomfortable, stifling, choking smog.

‘Although I was not present during last week’s morning excitement, I have been given a full report by Professor McGonagall.’ He put the cup back on the table. ‘I understand the pressures that must be being felt by all of you.’

She supressed a snort, making sure to keep all the muscles in her face straight, impassive, unyielding. Annoyingly she felt her nostrils flare and could have sworn that she saw a spark burst in the fire behind Dumbledore, although she hoped she’d just imagined it.

She wondered just who he was talking about. If he truly was concerned about all of them – all of them being Sirius and Regulus as well as just her, if she were to hazard a guess – then why weren’t they being given the pleasure of the Headmaster’s company for an evening? But no, it was just her he’d wished to talk to . . . what she wouldn’t give to be with Sirius right now cleaning the stained-glass windows on the northern tower, even if those windows liked to play nasty tricks on people by vanishing every so often.

‘I received an inquiry from the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago about an incident of great magical energy that was detected around the area I believe your family’s house to be.’

There was no mistaking it this time. The fire momentarily flared up in the grate.

_Control, Lyra!_

‘I was able to put their minds at ease and I know that you have been through a difficult ordeal, Miss Black, but I must ask, is there anything you wish to talk to me about?’

Lyra looked at the wall where the portraits hung again, this time she spotted the one she’d been hoping to avoid almost immediately. His eyes were hard and his mouth pressed into a thin white line as he peered down at her but at least he wasn’t wearing his usual sneer, not that she liked the calculating stare much better.

‘Phineas has agreed not to relay anything he hears in this room tonight whilst visiting his other portrait,’ Dumbledore said, following her gaze.

Lyra stayed still and silent. She watched the Phoenix, trying to ignore Dumbledore as he got out of his chair and moved out of her line of site. Curiosity eventually got the better of her and she looked behind her.

Dumbledore was standing at a small waist-high table. On the table top sat a glass chess set, the pieces small and strangely shaped, sitting immobile in their assigned places.

‘Do you play chess, Miss Black?’ He said after what seemed an incredibly long time. It was as if they were talking about her classes again, his voice was casual, light, even slightly charming. She frowned at the change in topic. ‘Surely your parents must have taught you.’

‘They did, but I’ve never attempted the muggle version of the game.’

Dumbledore gave an odd sort of chuckle which came out more like a huff. ‘I must admit that I find it much more of a challenge.’ He picked up a piece, one of the knights made of frosted glass, and examined it before putting it back on its square. ‘Much more difficult when you aren’t getting outside help. You’re forced to really on natural ability alone.’

This time she didn’t notice the growing flames.

‘But,’ he said turning around and making his way back to his chair. Lyra watched his every step, his every movement, ‘some of us hold the upper hand even there. It can be a most interesting game if all players are open and willing to play to the best of their abilities . . . even if they know it would leave the other at a disadvantage.’

She couldn’t help it this time, her eyes narrowed. She could only be thankful that his back was still her. This wasn’t a meeting to discuss her schooling or her behaviour . . . this was an acceptance offer. _Natural ability_. He was talking about _her_ ability. But for him to approach the matter than he must have some sort of idea as to what her abilities were. And if he knew . . .

She swallowed and schooled her features back into a look of cool, detached mild curiosity as he turned back to face her.

Dumbledore didn’t look at her as he crossed back to his desk and Sat back down, shrugging meekly. ‘But it has been years since I came across a stimulating opponent.’

There it was, the offer, plain and simple and finally out in the open. Dumbledore levelled his gaze and bore it into hers. Thankfully, Lyra had had plenty of experience fending off these sorts of attacks. She had no trouble holding her own gaze, no matter how quickly her heart was beating.

‘Well maybe you’ll find someone up to the challenge yet, professor.’

She didn’t feel at all relieved when Dumbledore released a smile.

‘Let us hope so, Miss Black.’ His smile widened for a fraction of a second before it settled. ‘Well if there really isn’t anything you would like to talk about then you should probably be getting back to your Common Room.’

Lyra nodded her head once and tried not to stand up too quickly. She had just started walking away from him when the headmaster spoke again.

‘Madam Pomfrey tells me that you haven’t yet been to see her yet?’

He said it so casually that he may have been enquiring about a meeting between friends that he had helped set up. It was then that Lyra realised that whilst James was writing Lily about what happened, James’ parents had no doubt been writing Dumbledore.

She turned and faced him. ‘Mrs Potter gave me some potions and salve before I left. I’ve not yet needed to replace them.’ Liar. The salve ran out a day ago, the potions two days before that.

Dumbledore nodded politely. ‘Even so, it would be wise if you went to see her so she can check on your progress.’ He leaned in ever so slightly and dipped his head so as to look at her over the tops of his glasses. Lyra resisted the urge to be unnerved by the intensity of those blue orbs that seemed to look right through her.

‘Yes, sir, I will.’ Then she turned and left the room trying to ignore the three sets of eyes she could feel burrowing into her back.

XXX

Dumbledore watched her retreat from the room. He was acutely aware that every step she took away from him, the softer the fire – which had quickly, alarmingly, flared back to life from throughout their conversation – seemed to become.

Even after she’d left, he kept his eyes fixed on the spot she’d disappeared from.

‘I see what you mean, Albus,’ said a voice from above. Dumbledore looked up to see Phineas looking at the same spot he had been. ‘She’s getting worse.’ He looked to Dumbledore. ‘Do you think she knows?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘What are you going to do?’

Dumbledore considered this for a long moment before releasing a heavy breath.

‘I’m not entirely sure.’

‘Perhaps you should ask that bird of yours.’

Dumbledore turned slowly around, shocked to see Fawkes staring intensely, curiously, at the same spot.


End file.
